In From The Cold
by JamiW
Summary: Not part of the series. Sparked by an idea from Mitzvahgirl, this starts mid-Loyalty and then goes it's own way.
1. Chapter 1

**Bobby POV**

* * *

It was a blow to lose Captain Ross.

True, the man had been an adversary to some extent. But he had his moments.

We were both devoted employees of the NYPD, and I'd respected him as my boss.

And just because I'd never wanted to ask him out for a beer didn't mean that I wasn't upset about his death.

It brought a sense of mortality to the department.

It reminded us all that on any given day…

But if I kept thinking like that, I'd make myself crazy, so instead I went about searching for Ross' killer.

The FBI had been using him as an undercover agent in hopes of stopping a terrorist organization.

So how had he been made?

Was it because I'd gone to the hangar?

Or was it something else?

I didn't like the agents with whom he'd been working.

And apparently, our new pro-temp captain didn't like them either.

"Goren, a word," Maas said to me as he strode past my desk.

It was the day after Ross' funeral.

It was also the day that Eames and I were going to take custody of Van Dekker.

We'd gotten our warrant, and so in a few minutes, we were heading over to the courthouse to intercept the agents.

"I only have a minute," I told him as got up from my chair.

Eames was on the phone with the DA confirming our position with Van Dekker, making sure that he knew we'd be pulling the suspect out of federal custody.

At Maas' request, she looked at me curiously and I just shrugged before following him into his office.

Maas shut the door behind me, and then he made a proposition.

"I want to fire you," he said boldly.

"Well, get in line," I joked uneasily.

"Can you deal with it? If that happens?"

He wasn't smiling, but he also didn't look angry or upset.

What the hell was going on?

"Can I handle being fired? What are my options? I mean, yeah, I guess I'd have to."

"What I want to know is, what would you do? Where would you go for work?"

"I don't know. I wasn't planning on getting fired any time soon."

"Goren," he said in frustration. "I'm being serious."

"Help me out here, Lieutenant. Where's this conversation going? Are you just looking out for my well-being?"

"No. And no, I'm not firing you. Not right now anyway. You haven't done anything. Yet. Besides, I'm thinking that maybe a suspension would be the way to start."

"The way to start what?"

"I think that someone inside the FBI is responsible for your captain's death," he said. "I don't think they pulled the trigger, but I think they tipped off the man who did."

"And what does that have to do with me getting fired? Or suspended?"

"The Chief tells me that you've gotten offers before from the Bureau. He thinks that if you weren't working for us, you'd be working for them."

"It's a possibility. Although now I'm not so sure."

"Be sure," he said cryptically. "And give me a reason."

And the point to this whole conversation finally hit me like a ton of bricks.

"You're asking me to go undercover to sniff out the leak in the FBI."

"You'd have to do it on your own," he said with a nod. "It's a distinct possibility that there are moles in the department as well, so we can't risk anyone here finding out about it."

"And Moran is on board with it?"

"It was his idea."

I was quiet for a minute while I absorbed the proposition.

I was definitely interested. If someone inside the Bureau was responsible, then I wanted him caught.

And Maas thought that there were moles in the department, too? And people called _me_ paranoid.

"I think that we start with a suspension," Maas continued. "And then we can step it up if we need to."

"What about Eames?" I asked him.

Because really, who knew how long something like this would take? I wasn't about to commit to a long-term assignment without her.

"What about her?"

"If I do this, I want to bring her in on it, too."

"That would be a tough sell."

"For the FBI? Or for the NYPD?"

"I would think, for Eames," he replied, tipping his head and looking at me curiously. "It would be off the books. And very unorthodox. Maybe you should start it and see what happens."

It was a serious consideration. And I'd have to think about it.

I wasn't just going to jump in head first.

"Can I let you know?"

"It needs to happen soon."

"I understand," I said. I reached for the door, and then turned back to Maas. "If I do this, Eames is, at the very least, in the loop. I'll get my foot in the door with the FBI and if I think I'm on the right track, then we'll figure out a way to bring her in. But she knows about it from the beginning. I'm not going behind her back."

There was a loud knock on the door that startled me, since I was standing with my hand on the knob.

It was Eames, and she tapped on her watch as she looked at me through the glass.

I gave her a nod and then waited for Maas' agreement.

"Okay. Go get Van Dekker and then you two meet me back here. We'll work out details."

"What was that about?" Eames asked me as we headed for the car.

"He had an…interesting proposition," I replied. My mind was still trying to wrap itself around the enormity of the undertaking.

I'd have to get myself suspended.

That would be simple enough.

And then I'd have to ingratiate myself to the FBI.

Not quite so easy, but still doable.

The trick with them would be to make them think that I could be useful. And since they were still trying to get a handle on this weapons deal, then all I had to do was follow the evidence and subtly get in the way.

I had no doubt that they'd reel me in at that point.

And from there, I'd have to convince them to bring in Eames.

Because sniffing out a mole was like doing undercover work from the inside. And I'd done plenty of undercover work in Narcotics.

It took time.

Trust had to be earned and positions established.

It didn't happen overnight. It didn't even happen in a week or a month.

And there was no way in the world that I was going to delve into that life without Eames.

And I can kid myself all I want to by saying it's because I need her as a partner, but that was a load of crap.

"Goren?"

"Yeah, um…sorry," I mumbled when I realized that we were almost to the courthouse and I hadn't said a word.

"You're not going to tell me about Maas' proposition?"

"I am," I said quickly. "It's…"

"Look, they're going in," she interrupted, pointing at the group of federal agents escorting Van Dekker into the building.

"Well, let's go get him."

And somewhere between the car and the interior of the building where we caught up to the suspect, I made up my mind.

Because I realized that attempting to procure evidence the old-fashioned way just wasn't going to cut it this time.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were most definitely desperate times. Ross was dead. Law enforcement agencies were leaking like sieves and something had to be done about it.

And this would be the perfect opportunity for me to work on getting that suspension because I had no doubt that the feds weren't going to honor our warrant.

I only wished that I'd taken the time to tell Eames about this before hand, but I would tell her when we got back to the car. And hopefully she'd understand.

"We have a DA's warrant for the arrest of Van Dekker," I announced challengingly.

"You've got no jurisdiction on this," an agent spoke up.

This was going to be even easier than I thought. I watched the indignation on their faces as Eames backed up our assertion with the facts.

And then I had to taunt Van Dekker a little bit.

"So, you're mine," I told him.

At which point, he resisted, I grabbed onto him, the feds tried to hold him back, but instead I tossed him into the wall.

It was therapeutic for me and exactly the grounds that Maas would be looking for.

Not only that, but the agents were all witness to my temper tantrum. My suspension would come as no surprise to them.

"This is bad, Bobby," Eames said to me once the others walked away, with Van Dekker still in tow.

"No. This is good. It's good," I told her.

"How is this good? You just unloaded on a suspect in front of a dozen witnesses. The Chief isn't going to like that kind of publicity."

"I know."

"So…"

"Let's go back to the car. I'll explain everything."

And then she gave me that look.

It was similar to the one she'd given me that day outside of the holding cell. When she'd learned that I'd been undercover and hadn't told her.

My heart plunged at the prospect that she was upset with me already, but she held my gaze and then gave me a nod.

"How much _everything_ is there to tell?" she questioned evenly. And that was code for _how long have you been keeping me in the dark_?

Fortunately for me, it wasn't long at all.

We got in the car and I told her about what had happened with Maas.

"So I guess you decided to do it," she stated.

"I think that I have to. But if it works…if they bite and want to bring me in…"

I left that thought hanging because I couldn't ask her to do it with me. It had to be her idea.

"Then you could be out for a long time," she finished. We were still sitting in the parked car and she hadn't started the engine, so she turned in her seat to look at me. Her eyes were filled with concern.

"This could be really dangerous," she continued. "If there is a mole…someone who leaked information on Ross…we know to what lengths he's willing to go. He'll attempt to hide his identity by any means necessary."

"I know."

"Bobby," she said on a sigh, leaning her head against the back of the seat.

Despite the gravity of our conversation, the intimacy of the moment was not lost on me. I wanted to reach over and pull her into my arms, to reassure her that everything would be okay.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

She'd allowed me to comfort her briefly when we'd first learned of Ross' death, but other than that, we still adhered to our steadfast yet unspoken rule of no touching.

And there was a good reason for that rule.

Because I knew that if I ever started touching her, I'd never want to stop.

But still…here we sat, alone in the car, making potentially life-changing decisions.

"I don't think that you should do it alone," she said quietly after a long moment of consideration.

I was instantly flooded with a blend of emotions.

Elation that she wanted to do this with me and yet concern for her well-being.

Because she was right.

It _was_ going to be dangerous.

But at least if we did it together, then I could have her back and she'd have mine.

"You need to be sure," I said, fighting back the nearly overpowering urge to reach out and touch her.

"I'm sure. I want to find this guy, just like you."

"And?" I asked when she didn't continue because even though she hadn't spoken the conjunction, it was there just the same.

"And someone has to keep you out of trouble," she added with a small smile.

The spell between us was broken by the ringing of my cell phone.

"It's Maas," I told her.

"Detective Goren," he said firmly when I answered the phone. "Where are you?"

"We're on our way back," I told him as Eames started the car.

"I need you in my office," he yelled. "And bring that partner of yours with you. Do you understand me?"

So he'd heard about the incident already.

Which meant that he knew my decision.

I had no doubt that he was making the call with his office door open, and I wondered how many detectives were in the squad room listening to him.

"Yes sir," I replied. "We'll be there in ten minutes."

It only took eight, and we walked through the squad room like condemned men to the gallows.

We got into his office and Eames closed the door behind us. Maas was behind his desk, and he stood up but made no move to come around it.

"So tell me he threatened you. Or you reacted to something," Maas said.

He was giving me one last out if I wanted it.

I caught Eames' eye and we stared at each other for a long minute.

She was with me. She was always with me.

"Goren, they've taken this to the commissioner. Do you know what that means?"

Yeah, I did.

That meant that maybe I didn't have an out after all.

That meant that the feds had gone over Moran's head, and the commissioner didn't know about this little stunt.

So it was a good thing that I was on board, because it was game-on.

Since the commissioner knew about what I'd done, the suspension was imminent. With the feds whining in his ear, he wouldn't have a choice.

The only difference was that if I was going forward with Moran and Maas' plan, then the suspension would be handled in front of everyone as opposed to behind closed doors.

"We're in," Eames said.

"Okay," Maas said with a nod. "We'll start with Goren and see how it plays out. Eames, we'll bring you in later if we can."

"We will," she insisted.

"We need them to bite on Goren first," he replied to her, and then he turned to me. "So you need to get into the middle of their investigation. Show them that you're committed to tracking down the truth."

"I am," I reminded him.

"Then it won't be too hard. They'll hear about your suspension. And when they see that you're not going to go away, they'll talk to you about helping them because they'd rather have you with them than against them."

"And once they commit to bringing me on board permanently, I'll get them to bring Eames along, too," I said.

"In the mean time, we'll work on a story for you," Maas said with a nod to Eames.

"Yeah, it won't be so believable if she gets fired, will it?" I said on a chuckle.

"We'll come up with something good," Maas promised. Then he glanced past me out into the squad room. "Okay, are you ready to sell this?"

"It won't be a stretch," I said.

"Yeah, he's been known to throw a tantrum or two," Eames said with a smirk.

I flashed back to the day when I'd wiped everything from my desk and stormed out of the office.

Not one of my finer moments, that was for sure. I liked to think that I'd progressed from that, but now was not the time for pride.

"Try not to break anything," Maas said. "Okay, let's do this."

I got up and gave him a nod and then whipped open the office door.

"We are not done here," Maas said forcefully as I continued to walk away from him. "Detective!"

I whirled around and stood toe to toe with him as the audience gathered in the background.

We stared hard at each other and then he said carefully, "You're suspended."

Even knowing that the words were coming, knowing that we'd planned it like this, it was still a blow.

Because this was it.

I was going undercover.

I reluctantly pulled out my gun and my badge and handed them over to Maas. It was almost like cutting off my lifeline.

_But I still have Eames_, I reminded myself.

Maas took my hardware and headed back to his office. I realized that everyone was staring at us.

Or rather, staring at Eames, waiting to see what she was going to say.

"Well, I talked him out of a psychological evaluation," she said harshly, as though she was truly pissed off at me. I had to remind myself that she wasn't. "And you can thank me later."

The crowd began to disperse, and I went to my desk to gather a few personal effects.

I needed to get out of there.

I needed to get Eames out of there where I could get on solid footing with her. I didn't like play-acting that she was angry with me. But that would have to wait.

And I'd come too far to blow the show.

I grabbed the folder from my desk, the one that contained the information we'd gathered so far on Ross' murder.

Nichols was standing beside my desk, in obvious shock at the scene he'd just witnessed.

"Uh…share this," I told him. "And I'll be in touch with you."

He took the folder from me, and I had no doubt that he'd continue the investigation. Which was good. I needed people to be going at this thing from all angles.

I couldn't resist looking at Eames one more time before I left.

I needed that connection.

"And with you," I said to her meaningfully. She held my gaze and gave me a nod, doing her best to still look angry.

But I read her better than anyone.

She wasn't mad.

She was worried.

Because now we'd set this whole thing in motion, and she knew as well as I did that there was no turning back.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Bobby POV**

* * *

It was harder than I expected, being on the outside.

_Alone_ on the outside, rather.

And while I couldn't wait for Eames to join the operation, I was also having second thoughts.

What if things went to hell?

What kind of man would I be if I subjected her to such a dangerous situation simply for personal reasons?

_But it wasn't simply for personal reasons_, I argued with myself.

She was my partner.

And I was fooling myself if I thought for one second that I had any say in the matter anyway.

She came to me after Van Dekker was killed.

It wasn't any big surprise that the feds were all over that, but it did make me feel good to know that apparently Nichols was on my side.

He'd encouraged Eames to come to me and keep me in the loop.

"I guess we can take him off our list of suspects, huh?" I joked.

"I guess," she agreed, still standing just inside of my door. Despite the stress of our current situation, she looked good. It felt like days since I'd seen her, even though it had been only one. "He did put on a nice show for the agents."

"He's protecting a fellow officer. It was the logical thing to do."

"Nichols may have a rational reason, but I hate them telling us what to do," she argued.

"I know. But you gotta go along with it, right?"

Because it actually worked to our advantage.

As far as Nichols was concerned, it gave Eames a reason to come make contact with me, so she didn't have to worry so much about getting spotted.

And as for the feds, well…I didn't care if they saw Eames with me. It might work to our benefit in the long run.

Because once I got in good with the feds, I'd still need a reason for them to bring her in with me, one that wouldn't make them suspicious, and I had an idea about that.

She asked me about my alibi, and then teased me when I said that I'd been at home.

"Alone, right?"

I wondered what she would've said if I'd said, no I wasn't alone.

She probably would've spit out her coffee.

And I really wished that I hadn't been alone. I wished she'd been here with me.

I forced my mind on business and told her what I'd found.

"So you're still accessing the police database?" she asked me in concern. "They'll use that. They'll add it to the charges."

She had a point in that we didn't know who might be monitoring the system. If there was someone leaking information from inside of the department, then they'd know what I was up to.

And as for the mention of charges, well…I think that she was worried about the legitimacy of this operation. And to be honest, I was a little bit worried, too.

How much weight did Maas hold?

And how much did I trust Moran?

He'd been sketchy in the past, but…he'd liked Ross. A lot. So I had to believe that he wanted to do the right thing with this.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter," I said dismissively.

Because it didn't.

I was already in. It was too late to change my course.

"The FBI wants your head," she insisted.

But that was fine with me, too.

Because I knew how they worked.

That meant that they'd be keeping a close eye on me, which would make my job easier.

So I mapped out my plan to Eames so that she could tell me if I was crazy. Not that I'd change my mind, but just so that I'd know.

And of course, she didn't disappoint me.

"I really feel I should try to talk you out of this," she said quietly with an odd mixture of pride and frustration on her face.

"But that's always been a wasted effort," I teased gently.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Her eyes were glassy when they met mine, and I fought the urge to hug her.

I'd been doing that a lot lately, and for some reason today I decided to quit fighting.

I stepped up to her and wrapped my arms around her.

I was amazed by how small she felt and then I was thrilled by the realization that she'd slipped her arms around me as well.

We stood there like that for a minute, neither of us saying a word, and then we both slowly pulled away.

"I'll be fine," I told her in an effort to smooth over any potential awkwardness.

"I know. Just hurry up and do this so that I can watch your back again."

"About that…"

"You're not going to talk me out of it," she said firmly.

I didn't argue. I didn't want to ruin our moment.

But at some point, before she went too far, I was going to have to give her the opportunity to back out. For her sake.

Two days later, I went back to 1PP.

The case had progressed even better than I'd hoped.

The feds had tracked me, and I'd convinced them that I was on their side.

Which was funny, really, considering they'd put a bag over my head and abducted me at gunpoint.

The feds worked in mysterious ways and it made me more uncomfortable about bringing Eames on board.

What if that had been her?

What if someone had shoved a hood over her head and thrown her into the back of a van?

I mean, sure, this time it had worked out.

But what if it had been the rogue agent?

So I was nervous when I went into 1PP.

Nervous for two reasons, really.

For starters, I was wired.

I really, really hated that, but Stahl had suggested it, and it would be the best way to gain her trust. I had to talk Nichols off of this case as a show of good faith.

And I had to be convincing so that he wouldn't be suspicious, but ultimately the FBI wanted Hassan to go free so that they could follow him.

By doing this, I would be proving my loyalty to the Bureau as opposed to the NYPD.

Eames knew what I was going to do, so together, she and I went to Nichols.

It didn't go over well, but I hadn't thought for a second that it would. This was the guy who had ordered that Ross be killed.

But what Nichols was missing was that it went so much deeper than Hassan.

"Zach," Eames said firmly. "Making deals that are painful, doing things we hate…sometimes that's part of our job."

And she was looking at me while she said it. Which made me all that much more nervous about what was about to happen next.

Had she made up her mind not to go with me?

Moran had set it up perfectly for her.

I firmly believed that the offer he'd made to her was more than just a set-up.

She'd earned it.

And he was giving her an acceptable alternative to joining the undercover side.

He'd offered her the captain's job in Major Case.

Of course, I knew that her first order of business would be to fire me.

She had to in order for the plan to work.

I'd still be wired.

The feds would be thrilled that I'd derailed the department's investigation.

And now I'd suddenly be unemployed.

I'd be ripe for the picking.

And Eames, well…she could stay on with the department.

She wouldn't be forced to work with someone else, because now she'd be working alone, as the boss.

She could feasibly be my handler through her office.

It was the safe route.

But at the same time, it would mean that our contact would be limited.

I'd be meeting her in clandestine locations and offering up data sticks with information and each time the clock would be ticking.

I was nearly making myself sick with wanting to know her choice. The mere idea of going days, even weeks on end without seeing her had me in a panic.

And it made me more aware of the depth of my feelings for her.

"And you're buying this," Nichols asked Eames skeptically.

"I'm listening," she said with a nod.

In the end, he had no choice. I felt bad for him. I'd been in his shoes. I knew what it was like to feel like your hands were tied.

But eventually, at some point, I hoped that it would all make sense to him.

I followed Eames to her new office. I was reluctant, especially considering that I was still wearing that damn wire.

I wanted to talk to her in private.

I wanted to tell her…_something_.

I wanted her to keep her job here where she'd be safe.

And yet I desperately wanted her with me.

But circumstances were going to force me to continue on with the game. Agent Stahl would be listening and so this was our best chance.

If we waited for another time, maybe some time when she wasn't listening, then I'd be going to _her_.

I'd be _telling _Stahl that I got fired, and we didn't want to do it that way.

We just wanted her to know it so that then she would come to _me_.

So I played the game. And so did Eames. She was really convincing, too.

I wondered if her emotion was because she was truly letting me go.

I thought that maybe it was.

And I couldn't blame her for her decision. Like I said, it was the safe thing to do.

And maybe she thought that she'd have more leverage to protect me politically if she stayed here.

Otherwise, we'd both be out in no-man's land, trusting Moran and Maas not to screw us over.

But if this was really going to be it, I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to wrap my arms around her again. In fact, I even kissed her on the cheek before I hugged her.

She leaned into my embrace and I felt her shudder slightly as she worked to keep her emotions in check.

I wanted to say something, but nothing that I could think of would be something I would want to have show up on a transcribed document that would result from this wire.

So instead, I let her go.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess," I told her quietly.

And then I walked away.

It was in her hands now, but as I walked through the squad room, I began to wonder how long before I could arrange a meeting with her.

Usually an undercover was supposed to wait until they had information to pass along, but I wasn't sure if I could wait that long.

Hell, I _was_ sure that I _couldn't_ wait that long.

As I got on the elevator and it had now only been a minute since I'd seen her last, I already wanted to turn around and go back.

I should've told her that I loved her.

_But then she would've come because of that_, I argued silently.

_Or she would've stayed because she doesn't love you back_, the cruel side of my brain added.

No, it was right to do it this way.

I couldn't bring emotions into the decision.

I got off of the elevator and went into the parking garage.

"Goren," Stahl called out to me. She was loitering behind a column in a classic spy-like fashion.

I took my time walking over to her, surreptitiously checking the surrounding area for other cops.

"You're clean," she told me. "I wouldn't have spoken to you if you weren't."

I pulled the wire from under my shirt and gave it back to her.

"You got what you needed," I stated. I kept my tone low and free of emotion.

"And then some," she replied. "I heard what happened. That's a hell of a blow from your partner, huh? And a nice fuck-you from the department."

I shrugged and put my hands in my pockets, my eyes locked on the elevator.

What was Eames doing right now?

"Well," Stahl continued, chatting on as though we were friends. "They might not want you, but we do."

"What do you mean?"

"The Bureau. We'd like to bring you on. You did some good work on this case. Maybe you'd like something a little more permanent."

"Like what?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you, Goren?"

"Yeah," I replied obtusely.

And then I wondered if this would be a meeting place for me and Eames.

In the parking garage at 1PP?

No. It was really a pretty stupid place for a secret gathering, and Eames wasn't stupid.

She'd come up with some brilliant idea to make sure that I was never made.

Unless, of course, the mole in the Bureau gave me up…

"Goren, are you listening to me?" Stahl asked in annoyance.

_Come on, Eames_, I begged silently.

Because if she was coming, it was supposed to be now.

"Yeah, I'm listening. You want me to work for the Bureau doing undercover assignments."

"And?"

"And what?"

The elevator pinged.

The doors opened and there she was.

I watched as she scanned the garage briefly before her eyes settled on mine. She flashed me a quick smile that was both nervous and relieved at the same time.

"Shit, what is she doing down here?" Stahl whispered as she eased deeper into the shadows. "Get rid of her."

"Hang on," I replied and then I crossed to meet Eames in the middle of the garage.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

"I can't do it, Bobby," she told me. "I quit."

We both kept our voices at a volume to be easily overheard.

"You…you did what? Eames, no. You're throwing it all away."

"What they're doing…it's not right. I can't work for them anymore, and…I don't want to be there without you."

"Are you sure?"

And my question served two purposes.

It was for the benefit of Stahl, who was undoubtedly listening to us.

Me asking if she was sure was a valid question and would make it seem as though I didn't know that her quitting was a possibility.

But I did know. Because we'd talked about this.

So what I was really asking her was, are you sure that working undercover with me is what you want to do?

Because our cover story was going to have to be that we were a couple.

Why else would she walk away from her job?

Seeing someone treated unfairly brought about outrage and indignation. It didn't prompt a person to quit. Not when that person has just been promoted.

Not unless that person was in love.

"I'm sure," she said firmly.

Together we went back to where Stahl was waiting. She shook her head slowly, looking only at me.

"You're breaking protocol already, Goren," she said.

"No, I'm not. She needs to be part of the deal."

"What deal?"

"If you want me, you get us both."

"She was just promoted to be the pro-temp captain of Major Case!" Stahl fired back.

_And wasn't it interesting that she knew that specific detail?_

I mean, yeah, she knew that Eames had been the one to fire me, but…I wondered exactly where her ears were in the department.

"And I know that you heard her just say that she quit," I told her.

"I did," she admitted. "I'm having trouble believing it, but…why? Why would you do that? It can't just be because of politics."

"No, it's because I love him," Eames answered.

And yeah, it was our cover story, but boy was it ever music to my ears.

"That's right," I said, taking a hold of Eames hand as though it was an every day occurrence. "We're together and you know as well as I do that undercover work requires a lot of time apart from family, and we're not willing to do that. So as far as the job goes, we're a package deal. Take it or leave it."

"I had no idea," she managed to say.

"Because we're good at keeping secrets," Eames told her.

"I guess you are," she agreed. "Okay. I'll have to get official approval, but…so you really quit your job?"

"Yes," Eames said, only now she was looking at me.

Stahl gave me a nod and pulled out her phone to make a call. I had all kinds of questions that I wanted to ask Eames, but I held back.

My curiosity would have to wait until we ditched Stahl.

"Okay," she said when she hung up. "You're both in."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Alex POV**

* * *

I spent quite a bit of time over the past few days thinking about my partner.

And yeah, I've spent a lot of time over the past several _years_ thinking about him, but lately, specifically, it seemed as though it was time to draw a line in the sand.

And I know that he didn't mean for it to work out this way, but that's what it was.

I could work the assignment with him.

Or I could stay with the department.

A difficult choice, or course, but I made up my mind.

I was going to work with him.

I didn't want to think about him being out there alone, doing dangerous duties without anyone trustworthy to watch his back.

So I would do it.

And whenever we finished, however long it took to get to the bottom of this mess of Bureau bullshit, well…then we could return to the department.

Assuming that Moran didn't pull a fast one and take advantage of the situation.

It was a legitimate concern, but one that I had to ignore.

Keeping Bobby safe was more important.

So I made my choice.

And then Moran caught me by surprise.

He offered me the job of MCS Captain. It had come from left field as far as I was concerned, and I wondered whether the offer had only come about due to our current circumstance.

Was I the one that he wanted for this position anyway, or did it just suit our needs?

It was impossible to say.

I thought that it was a little unusual that Maas was in the office with us when the offer was made, but then he caught my gaze more than once and it suddenly hit me.

_They think the office might be bugged_.

And then they delivered the next blow.

"Detective Goren has become a liability."

I knew that it was coming, but it didn't make it any easier to hear them say the words.

And really, it was a good thing because it meant that Bobby had succeeded with the FBI. I hadn't talked to him since the day before, but he'd obviously gotten what they needed.

So it was time to fire him and let the Bureau snatch him up.

Which meant for me, it was time to put up or shut up.

The whole experience in Moran's office was surreal.

It was full of meaningful looks and underlying subtext and I suddenly wished desperately that Goren was with me.

Not that I didn't know how to handle myself.

I do.

But I preferred to have him around.

And yeah, it's probably because I'm in love with him.

But also because I trust him unequivocally and at a time when it felt as though the ground was made of quicksand, having someone to trust was a rare commodity.

But I'd have him soon enough because despite the offer on the table, I was still going with Bobby.

Yes, I'd take this job for now.

I'd fire Bobby.

It had to be done right and I didn't trust anyone else not to screw it up.

It had to be authentic in order for Agent Stahl to make a move on him.

But after that…well, let's just say I'd go down in the books as the pro-temp captain who served for the shortest period of time ever.

Not exactly the distinction that I'd imagined for myself once upon a time, but I wasn't going to feel sorry for myself.

I thanked Moran for the opportunity and prepared to leave his office.

"Your promotion to Lieutenant is effective immediately," he told me. "And I'll schedule for you to take the captain's exam one day next week. Unless…you call me and let me know differently."

He held my gaze and gave me a meaningful nod.

_Message received_.

I could take the exam.

Or I could call and tell him that I wasn't interested. Which meant I'd be going to work with Bobby.

He seemed sincere, and my trust in him grew slightly. I almost believed that Bobby and I might actually have jobs with the NYPD once this Bureau stint was over.

That night, I went to Bobby's.

I'd spent more time at his place in the past week than I had in the previous month, but oddly I was comfortable there.

And he seemed comfortable with me being there.

He'd caught me off guard the other day when he'd hugged me, but I hadn't minded it. In fact, I'd liked it quite a bit.

I wished he'd do things like that more often.

And as I listened to him lay out his plan, I realized that I might be getting just that, only not for the reasons that I'd hoped.

"We'll need to go in as a couple," he explained.

"Why?"

"Because otherwise they'll be suspicious. You and I are partners. If we both start working for them, they'll think we're working a case together. If we go because…well, because we're in love…"

"I get it," I said quietly.

And I did get it.

It just made me sad to think that this was the closest I was ever going to get to having a relationship with him.

It would be one based on necessity. One done for the benefit of others rather than for ourselves.

"Eames, if that's going to be too hard…"

"I didn't say that."

"I know. You'd never say that. But still…you need to give it some serious thought. I mean, this could go on for awhile."

_So long that I might forget it was a game_, I thought wistfully.

But personal feelings aside, it was still the right thing to do.

There was no telling how many more people might be hurt or killed by this unknown rogue agent. He had to be flushed out and dealt with. And of course, there could be someone in the NYPD as well.

We had no way of knowing until we started digging.

"Tomorrow, I'll come into the office," he said. "I'll be wired. You and I will talk to Zach and get him to back off. And then you can take me into your new office and fire me."

"Bobby…" I said on a sigh. Because no matter how many times that thought ran through my head, I still didn't like it.

I was _not_ going to fire Bobby Goren.

Except that yes…I was.

"You know that it has to be like this. It'll work. She'll buy it."

"I know," I agreed. "Okay. I'll fire you. And then I'll quit."

"Now that part, you don't have to do. You can keep working there. It won't change the rest of the plan."

"Except that you'll be going it alone."

"I've been alone for most of my life, Eames," he told me. He gave me a smile and reached out to touch my arm. "And you can be my contact. We'll still meet from time to time."

"No, Bobby, I've made up my mind."

"You can be Captain," he emphasized. "Of Major Case. That's a big deal."

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

"Just do me a favor," he said. "Sleep on it, okay? And trust me. Whatever you decide, we're okay."

I'd left shortly thereafter and went back to my place.

_Sleep on it_, he'd said.

Yeah, because I was going to be sleeping tonight.

Although I did manage to get in a few restless hours, but mostly I tried to imagine what my life was going to be like working undercover with Bobby.

I'd done brief undercover work in the past, when I was with Vice, but those only lasted the length of a shift.

When I finished, I could wash off the make-up and change into normal clothes and then I could be Alex again.

What would it be like to pretend to be someone else for an extended period of time?

Although this wouldn't really be that, would it?

It would be me pretending to be in love with Bobby while we worked cases together.

I'd been doing that for years.

Except then I'd been pretending that I _wasn't_ in love with him.

So this assignment would just be me, letting my true feelings show through.

_Except they won't be_ his _true feelings, _I reminded myself.

This was going to get complicated.

The next day, Bobby came into the office and together we managed to curtail Nichols into doing what we wanted.

And it wasn't really what _we_ wanted, but it was what the feds wanted, and it would get Bobby in their good graces.

And ultimately, with the FBI, Bobby could continue to track Hassan.

We'd still be able to take him down at some point.

Just not today.

We left Zach, sullen and disenchanted, and headed for my new office. The one that I'd been in for all of five minutes.

But even as I tried to make myself regret it, tried to see if somewhere inside of me a little voice called out to change my mind, that didn't happen.

I was secure in my decision.

But it didn't make firing Bobby any easier.

I mean, yeah, it was an act.

But it felt so…final.

And what if it was?

What if Moran didn't follow through, and this was literally his last moment as a member of the NYPD?

It got to me, more than a little.

And then he had to go and hug me, which very nearly caused me to come unglued.

I think that maybe he wasn't sure what I was going to do. I mean, I'd told him, but then he'd insisted that I sleep on it, and so he was kind of going into this thing blind.

And maybe that helped him sell the bit, I don't know.

But I felt bad for him, and I wanted to reassure him somehow, but I couldn't.

Not with him being wired up.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess," he said at last.

I nodded emphatically, but he simply turned around and walked away.

Now it was my turn.

_Last chance to change your mind, Alex_.

And funny, but my inner voice sounded an awful lot like my father. He would be mortified by what I was about to do.

Or would he be more upset by what I'd just _done_? I'd fired my partner.

Whichever the case, I knew that eventually I'd have to face my father with the truth, but not today.

Today, I just had a phone call to make.

"This is Detective Eames," I told Moran, deliberately choosing not to use my new title.

I was a detective, pure and simple.

"I won't be taking that captain's exam," I told him. He was quiet for a minute, and I wondered if maybe he suspected the phone of being bugged. Probably.

"Are you sure?" he asked me carefully.

"Yes. And I'm leaving the department. I hope that you don't expect me to work out a notice."

"No," he said on a sigh. "I understand."

Five minutes later, I stepped off the elevator in the parking garage. I could see Bobby across the lot, standing next to a column. I could only imagine that Stahl was behind the concrete stanchion.

Bobby looked my way and I couldn't stop the smile. His expression remained impassive, but I could read his eyes and I suddenly felt a fluttering of nervousness in my stomach.

_Now is not the time, Alex. _

I watched Bobby as he said something to Stahl and then he trotted over to me. Once his back was to the agent, he'd broken out into a smile, but then he'd schooled his features and, in a voice loud enough to be overheard, he asked me what was going on.

"I can't do it, Bobby. I quit."

"You…you did what? Eames, no. You're throwing it all away."

"What they're doing…it's not right. I can't work for them any more, and…" I trailed off for a second, because I knew what I needed to say, and even though it was also the truth, it was still tough to say it out loud.

_Get over it, Alex,_ I reminded myself harshly.

So I took a deep breath and said, "I don't want to be there without you."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

He seemed oblivious to my discomfort at such a blatant declaration, words that I would've never said under normal circumstances.

Of course, these weren't normal circumstances.

And the words _were_ true. I _wouldn't_ want to be there without him. But I couldn't imagine myself having the guts to tell him that.

But he was staring at me intently, and his eyes held such…_something_. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but I was pretty sure that it was something he'd never let me see before.

"I'm sure," I told him.

We walked over to Stahl where she quickly chastised him.

"You're breaking protocol already, Goren."

And that was when he explained the deal.

The Bureau was going to get a two-fer.

I wasn't sure how well that would go over, but truthfully, I was only halfway listening, because I was gearing myself up for what I had to say next.

I had to be convincing and unwavering and sincere.

"And I know that you heard her just say that she quit," Bobby said to Stahl.

"I did," she admitted. "I'm having trouble believing it, but…why? Why would you do that? It can't just be because of politics."

"No, it's because I love him," I said.

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

Probably because that was true, too.

And maybe it wasn't so hard because I knew that he'd have to go along with it.

There was no danger of rejection because this was our story. And for the next however long we did this, he had to pretend that he loved me back.

At least when people were watching anyway.

"That's right," Bobby said, startling me by grabbing my hand.

I forced myself not to look surprised, but there was a jolt of electricity that went through me at that innocent contact.

Maybe this assignment was going to be even harder than I thought.

Especially if he was so good at casually showing little displays of affection while I was dying a slow death, wishing that they were real.

"We're together and you know as well as I do that undercover work requires a lot of time apart from family, and we're not willing to do that," Bobby continued. "So as far as the job goes, we're a package deal. Take it or leave it."

She took it.

We were in.

Stahl left us alone in the garage on the promise that we'd meet up with her at a diner in Weehawken first thing in the morning.

The two of us stood in silence after she left. She'd been gone for several minutes when I realized that Bobby was still holding my hand. He must have noticed at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly as he let go.

"Don't be," I told him. His eyes snapped up to meet mine as I continued. "What I mean is that if this is our story, then you can't be apologizing for every time you touch me. It's going to need to seem natural, or they'll sniff us out after ten minutes."

"You're right," he said, shaking his head. "It just feels…I don't know. Strange. And I don't want you to think that I'm trying to take advantage of the situation or anything."

Strange. That was great. He'd held my hand and then said it felt strange.

"I know that you wouldn't do that," I said, fighting off my hurt and irritation. "And I know I'm not your type so don't worry about the idea that I might misconstrue something, okay? It's work. We have a mission here. Part of that mission is that we have to pretend to be in love, so let's just do it and quit over-thinking it, okay Goren?"

And yeah, so maybe I didn't do a very good job of hiding my hurt.

He stood still, momentarily speechless, as I headed for the car.

"Come on. I'll drive you home," I called out to him when he still hadn't moved.

And now I felt bad because somehow I'd managed to hurt his feelings. Jeez, this was going to be a minefield.

"Eames…"

"Alex," I corrected. "What kind of guy calls his girlfriend by her last name? I mean, when we're working, sure, but otherwise…"

"I got it. Okay. Alex. I didn't mean…it's not that…"

He couldn't seem to get the words out, so I got into the car and slammed the door. He stood outside for another minute and then got into the passenger seat. I stuck the key in the ignition, but then he reached out and touched my arm.

"When I said strange, I didn't mean bad strange," he said carefully. "I just meant that I didn't have to worry about you hitting me or anything because I knew that you'd go along with it since you had to and then I started thinking that it wasn't fair to make you go along with something if you didn't want to, and…"

"Bobby," I said, and now I had to laugh. I should've known that he would turn it around into something to feel guilty about. I had to remember that this was new to him, too, and just because he didn't feel the same way as I did didn't mean that it made pretending any easier. Just different. "Let's go to dinner and practice this dating thing."

"Are you asking me on a date?" he asked, visibly relieved that we'd somewhat cleared the air.

"Yeah," I teased. "And you're saying yes because you have to."

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Bobby POV**

* * *

The date with Eames had gone well.

In fact, it was actually a lot of fun.

I'm not sure why that surprised me.

Maybe because we'd started off on the wrong foot.

Why did I have to tell her that it felt strange to hold her hand?

No wonder she'd been insulted.

Although I guess I did a decent job of explaining to her what I'd meant, even if I wasn't being completely honest.

Because the truth was that it was only strange because of what holding her hand did to me.

It had made me _very_ aware of her.

As a woman, I mean.

Throughout the course of our dinner date, I spent a lot of time holding her hand.

Ostensibly for the purpose of making us both more relaxed with the common gesture of togetherness, but in reality, well…I really liked holding her hand.

Hers are small…smooth and soft, but strong, too. Like the rest of her, I guess.

_And that was probably a bad path for my mind to go down…_

But so the date had gone well and then she'd driven me home.

There was a brief awkward moment in the car while I pondered how far we were going to take this practice session.

Because, if we were in love with each other, surely we kissed from time to time.

But would that ever come up?

I couldn't imagine a scenario where we would have to offer up that kind of proof in front of the feds.

I mean, we did have a job to do.

Our relationship was just the back story, not the main event. I mean, we were professionals. There weren't going to be any overt public displays of affection.

So in the end, I picked up her hand again. It was beginning to feel natural to do so, which meant that our date had been a great idea.

But this time when I picked it up, I brought it to my lips and kissed the back of her hand.

"Thank you," I told her.

"For dinner? You paid," she deflected, although I did notice that her cheeks flushed slightly from the contact of my lips on her skin.

"You know what I'm saying," I said firmly, still holding her hand in mine. I didn't really want to let it go, but after another moment, I forced myself.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," she said.

I barely slept all night.

I don't care what anyone says. Undercover work is exciting.

And yes, it can be exhausting and dangerous and lonely.

But Eames would be with me. I didn't see myself getting lonely this time around.

The hard part this time would be maintaining my focus.

And remembering that her actions were all for show.

So while I tossed and turned under the sheets, I thought about how best to gather information on the agents at the Bureau.

It would be tricky, working cases and yet investigating them at the same time.

But we'd do it.

And then for some reason, I thought about the softness of Eames' skin.

It was on that note that I managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning, she picked me up and together we headed for the diner to meet Stahl.

"What do you think they're going to start us off doing?" she asked. "And how are we going to flush out the mole if we're doing undercover work, just the two of us?"

"We have to earn their trust first," I replied. "And then we'll be allowed more access, and that's when the real investigation begins."

"So for now, we're just a couple of feds," she said with a grin.

"Yep."

Agents Stahl and Beemer were seated in a booth near the back of the diner.

I didn't like Beemer and he knew it which was why so far I'd been dealing with Stahl, but I wasn't going to complain about his presence.

The more agents with whom we became familiar, the better.

"Goren and Eames," Beemer said with a sneer. "You know, I knew there was something going on with the two of you. It's nice to have proof that my instincts were right."

"Yeah, that probably doesn't happen very often, does it?" Eames retorted.

I bit back a smirk at the confused look on Beemer's face. He wasn't sure if she'd just insulted him or not.

We slid into the seat across from the agents and then waited patiently while a waitress filled our coffee cups.

"Okay, we'll start with the ground rules," Stahl said. "First off, you're not agents. You're assets. There's a difference."

"Right. It means that you answer to us," Beemer added arrogantly. "We're your handlers. We'll bring you the assignments and you report directly back to either Agent Stahl or myself."

"And for now, you're in the trial phase, which means that you'll be under surveillance," Stahl picked up. "It helps us evaluate your effectiveness and it's a safety precaution in the beginning. Your work will involve the two of you worming your way into different walks of life. Different groups of people. And sometimes those people are very paranoid. This way, if they start watching you, we'll know about it because we'll be watching you, too."

"How long is the Bureau going to keep us under surveillance?" Eames asked.

"That's the other thing," Beemer said snidely. "You don't ask questions. You'll know things when we decide that you need to know."

This was a test. He was pushing us to see how far we'd go.

I glanced at Eames and gave her a slight nod and then the two of us got up from the table.

"Where are you going?" Stahl asked sharply.

"We're not doing this," I said.

"Goren, wait," she called out when we started walking away.

I paused for a beat, and then together we turned around and went back to the table.

I put my hands on the surface and leaned down close to Stahl, ignoring Beemer altogether.

"I didn't come to you for this. You came to _me_," I reminded her. "And we're not putting up with these bullshit mind games about who's in charge of whom. It's not about hierarchy. It's about getting the job done, right?"

"Right," she agreed.

"So tell him to take the stick out of his ass," Eames added with a nod toward Beemer.

"Guys, come on," Stahl entreated. "Sit back down. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here."

"I think we did," I replied.

But we sat back down.

"As I was saying," Stahl continued. "You'll be under surveillance by us _in the beginning_. For the first month maybe, depending on how things go. Although, Eames, I didn't realize that you had your own place. I guess I just assumed that you were living with Goren, but…"

And I wondered how she knew that Eames _wasn't_ living with me.

Had she been watching us last night, too?

Watching as we'd sat in the car outside of my building and I'd kissed her hand like some nervous kid?

"Is that a problem?" Eames asked her evenly.

"Actually, it is. It's protocol to keep new assets under watch, but we'd have to double the budget if we're going to watch two apartments."

"So you want us to live together to save the Bureau money?"

"It was your idea to come into this," Stahl reminded her. "And I got the approval, but it was based on only expanding the budget enough to allow for your salary. If it's going to be a problem…"

"No, it's not a problem," I spoke up. "It's fine. We've been talking about moving in together anyway, so this will work out great."

I could feel Eames tense up beside me and I wondered how badly she was going to ream me once we were alone.

But there was no way that we could back down at the first speed bump.

And really, would it be that big of a deal?

I could sleep on my couch for…however long.

Although I had a feeling that I'd be taking a whole lot of cold showers in the weeks to come.

"Good. And really, for your first assignment it would've been a necessity anyway, so...it's good to just get that out of the way."

"Our first assignment," Eames repeated. "Which is what?"

"Don't look at it here. Take it home and read over it," Stahl said as she pulled out a file from her briefcase. She slid it across the table, but kept her hands on top of it. "I hadn't planned to throw you to the wolves this quickly, but we needed a couple for this and now that we have you two, well…it's always better to use an actual couple rather than two agents who are just pretending. Because you know that kind of thing just never works."

Eames and I both nodded our agreement, but on the inside, I was starting to panic.

I really hadn't anticipated that this couple thing would come into play for anything other than our reason for both coming to the Bureau.

But now it seemed as though they were going to use it to their advantage.

"Your mission is outlined in the file, along with your identities and cover story and the sheets on the men in question," Beemer told us.

I watched as Stahl reached into her briefcase again and this time she pulled out a cell phone.

"Don't use your other cell phones for anything related to this case. Only use this one. I've already programmed in the number on which you can reach me. You need to check in once every twenty-four hours, but obviously more often if you have information to pass or if you need any kind of back-up. If you suspect that your cover is compromised, then you have authorization to abort the mission at any time."

I wanted to ask if Ross had been given that authorization as well.

Had he suspected that he'd been compromised?

Or had he been taken completely off guard?

And was it Beemer who had exposed him?

Or Stahl?

Or someone whom we'd had yet to meet?

I was anxious to get to the bottom of that, but I had to take it one step at a time.

First we had to establish trust.

We had to prove our effectiveness as their assets.

And apparently, we had to be a couple.

Thirty minutes later, Eames and I were back in the car. She'd been quiet throughout the rest of the meeting and I was worried about what was going on in her mind.

Was this more than she'd bargained for?

Was it too late for her to call Moran and get her job back?

"Eames, I'm…"

"Don't say it," she interrupted. "Do _not_ say that you're sorry."

And despite her words, she didn't sound mad.

But I still couldn't get a read on her.

"I didn't know that it was going to turn into this," I said.

"Of course you didn't. And we didn't have a choice, did we? If I'd gone to them as anything other than your girlfriend, then they would have suspected something. Because people don't just quit their job and follow their _colleague_. So like I said, no more apologies. We both signed on for this. Let's go by my place and I'll pack a bag, and then…"

"We'll be roomies," I said with a wry grin.

"It is kind of strange though, don't you think? The NYPD insists on no fraternization between partners and yet the Bureau is practically picking out China patterns."

"You think they're manipulating us?"

"Maybe. But I have no idea why," she admitted with a shrug. I guess that at this point, it didn't really matter.

We'd find out soon enough and until then, we were going to play their game.

My phone rang as I opened up the file, so Eames took the documents from me while I checked the display on my phone.

"It's a payphone," I told her with curiosity.

Which meant that it was Maas.

"Goren," he said. "The feds have been to your place."

"I know. We just met with Stahl, and she told us that we'd be under surveillance during our trial phase. They also said that Eames has to move in with me," I stated, wanting to get it all out in the open. "For budgetary reasons."

I didn't want the appearance of impropriety to adversely affect our potential return to the department.

And I really didn't want Eames to get any kind of bad reputation.

What woman would want it to be known that she was shacking up with me?

"Yeah, well, did they tell you that they were going to put bugs in your place?"

"What?" I asked sharply. "They went inside?"

"Uh huh. They weren't in there long, but long enough."

"Okay," I said numbly. "Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. You call me if you get into trouble, okay?"

"Yes sir."

The feds had bugged me?

And now Eames was going to be living with me and they'd be listening.

I was starting to wish I hadn't dropped that acting class in high school.

Because even though I had no problem pretending to be in love with her since I _was_…I was going to have a problem acting as though we'd been a couple for some time already.

I hung up with Maas and then looked over at Eames, who was reading through the file that Stahl had given us. We were still parked down the street from the diner.

"It's a human trafficking ring," she said, finally bringing her eyes up to mine. "The Russian mob."

"Maas thinks the feds bugged my place," I told her.

"What? Wait, how would he know that?"

"He was keeping an eye on it, I guess," I answered, although suddenly I wasn't sure either.

Why _was_ he watching my place?

Just as a precaution?

Or did he want to keep track of what I was up to for some other reason?

"So Maas is watching. The feds are watching. And pretty soon the Russians are going to be watching," she stated.

"It looks that way, yeah," I said with a nod.

I wasn't sure what that meant for us except that maybe I'd have to get better drapes.

But at least Eames kept her sense of humor about her.

She flashed me that smirk that wreaks havoc on my libido, and said, "Why do I get the feeling that we're going to end up on Youtube before this thing is over?"

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Bobby POV**

* * *

The rest of the day was surreal.

And maybe Alex was worried about being on Youtube, but I was more perplexed with immediate concerns.

First of all, what did normal couples talk about in their homes?

If people were going to be listening to us, then we had to make it sound good.

Realistic.

And maybe I'd have to let her take the lead on that because she did have some experience in that arena.

But secondly, what about fights? Should we stage some? Or hell, maybe living with me would bring those about naturally, I don't know.

And what about sex?

That thought nearly had me hyperventilating.

Were we going to have to simulate the sounds of us making love?

Although at least there was no video feed.

I'd called an old buddy of mine who was into electronics. After Eames and I left her place with her life now packed into a suitcase, we'd met him at my apartment.

He pretended to be the cable repair man, and while he was inside, he did a sweep of the place.

"See, here's you problem," Jimmy told us while he pointed at the bookshelf. "Your coax is stripped. It'll take me a few minutes to get you set up with a new connection."

He kept talking about our cable while he showed us the location of four more bugs.

One in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, one near the front door, and a second one in the living room.

At least they'd left the bathroom clean.

"Okay, Mr. Goren. You're good to go," he said as he handed me a piece of paper.

_Audio devices only._

Thank God for small favors.

So Jimmy left and Eames took her suitcase into the bedroom.

It only took her a few minutes to organize her things, and then she joined me in the kitchen.

I was sitting at the table with the file opened up in front of me, but I wasn't reading it.

I was still stuck on the minute details of pulling off _this_ undercover so it was difficult to delve into the _next _undercover.

And then I suddenly realized that we'd been quiet for awhile.

That couldn't be normal.

"So…um…I was going through this file, and um…it looks like we need to pose as a um…couple who wants to…um…adopt a baby."

_Great, Goren_. That sounds natural.

"Relax, honey," Eames said, and her use of the affectionate term caused me to snap my eyes up to hers.

"I know it feels a little weird, but this is going to work out fine," she continued. "Trust me. I mean, we were thinking about taking this step anyway, right?"

"Step?" I asked in confusion.

Because for some reason the tone of her voice had caused me to lose all ability to understand plain English.

"Living together," she clarified. "We would have gotten here eventually. So it's just a little sooner rather than later."

"That's true," I managed to say.

"So come on," she said. And actually, she didn't just say it. She practically purred it and I found myself fighting back an erection. What was she doing? "We can look over the file later. There's something else I want to do first."

"First?" I repeated, well aware that I was losing my battle with arousal.

"Yeah. I think a nice hot bath is in order. And then I'll fix us something to eat. And after that, we can get down to business."

A bath.

She was suggesting that we take a bath.

Together.

She stood in the doorway waiting for me to join her and it finally hit me.

She wanted to go into the bathroom.

Where there was no listening device.

And I had to be the dumbest man on the planet for not realizing what she was trying to do.

"Bobby, what is going on with you?" she asked me once we were safely ensconced in the bathroom and the faucet was running.

I caught myself before blurting out an apology.

"I…Eames…"

"Alex," she corrected.

"_Alex_," I started again. "This is just…I'm having trouble."

"Yeah, I can see that," she said with a smile. "It's just an assignment. We've done undercover work before."

"Not like this."

"No, not like this," she agreed. "But that doesn't mean we can't pull it off."

I nodded, but I still wasn't convinced.

I was having trouble looking her in the eye, and for some reason, my mind was supplying me with the image of Meg Ryan faking an orgasm in that movie.

_Would that be how Eames did it_?

For the benefit of the bugs, I mean.

"How do you beat a lie detector test?" she asked me, touching me on the arm to get my attention.

"Believe the lie," I answered with a shrug.

"That's right. And this is essentially the same thing. So believe this lie. Get into the moment, okay? We love each other. And this is our life. We're undercover assets for the FBI."

Eames' little pep talk helped.

She was right and I'd been acting unprofessional.

I mean, come on. I'd infiltrated a drug ring back in the day. This should be a cake walk in comparison.

This was Eames.

And she was making it easy on me.

All I had to do was believe that she loved me.

"They can't see us," she reminded me. "We'll keep the blinds closed, so they can only hear us. Just say whatever feels natural, and if you want to tell me something else, something that you don't want them to hear, then either write it down or point for me to come in here. But writing it down will be better. I mean, we can't spend all of our time in the bathroom."

"You're right. I know you're right," I said.

"And _relax_," she insisted. "I'm not going to get mad at you for something you do or say while we're trying to pull this off. So don't over-analyze, okay?"

"Okay."

"And just think. A month from now, we'll be like an old married couple," she added with a smile. And to punctuate her statement, she put her hand on my chest, just resting it there for a moment and then she patted me and moved away. "Ready?"

"Aren't we going to take a bath?" I managed to tease.

She barked out a laugh and went over to turn off the water.

"Oh, we did," she said. "We're already done."

"Oh, I don't think so," I argued lightly. "I would _not_ be that fast."

She laughed again, and just like that we were back on even footing.

I could do this.

_We_ could do this.

So we had some lunch and then spent the afternoon discussing the case.

Once I managed to quit thinking about every little problem that might arise from our living situation, I was able to settle into a comfortable routine with Eames.

"So they think that this adoption agency is really stealing babies and then selling them to unsuspecting couples," she said after we'd read through the file. "Look, this guy here. Dorian Marcovic. He's the attorney that we need to request. According to the documentation, he does the vetting."

"So we convince him that we're desperate and that we have the money to back it up," I concluded.

The operation had ties to the Russian mob, as Eames had mentioned, and it looked as though their side business included offering up nannies for sale along with the infants.

The nannies were mostly teenaged girls who had undoubtedly been snatched from their Eastern European homes and forced into the working world as a way to either repay some debt owed by their parents, or maybe on the promise of getting their parents to America.

Whichever the case, I could see why the FBI wanted an in.

They needed proof that Marcovic was orchestrating this trafficking business and if we could convince him to take us on as clients then we might be able to follow the trail.

We could maybe plant a GPS device on him, or the Bureau could put a tail on him…whatever needed to be done so that there would be hard evidence of how and from whom he was obtaining these babies that he was then selling for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

And Marcovic would most definitely be cautious about which couples he accepted. According to the Bureau file, this had been going on for nearly a decade and the guy had yet to get caught, although they suspected him of some pretty grisly crimes in addition to the baby market. He was definitely not a nice guy.

"Hey, let's go get some dinner," I said suddenly after we'd been hard at it for several hours.

And yeah, I liked to cook, but I had a feeling that we were going to be doing a lot of eating out.

It would be a nice break to be able to talk without anyone listening. Although, then they'd probably be watching, but we'd be in public. I could hold her hand or put my arm around her, and we'd be fine.

It was a nice night, so we decided to walk to a restaurant that was only a few blocks away.

"See? It's not so bad, is it?" Eames said as we walked slowly along the sidewalk. She took my hand in hers and laced her fingers through mine.

"It's not bad at all," I agreed. "I'm sorry about earlier. And I know," I added quickly before she could chastise me. "I'm not supposed to be sorry. But, what can I say?"

She chuckled lightly and nudged me with her shoulder.

It was comfortable, being with her like this. I wondered idly why we'd never let ourselves be close like this before. Why we'd always kept that distance between us.

"You think they're following us now?" she asked me.

"I don't know. Probably."

"Why? I mean, we haven't started this case yet. What possible reason could they have for following us to dinner?"

"I think that maybe they're not sure what to make of us. I don't believe that month-long surveillance protocol thing for a second, do you?"

"No. No, they definitely want to keep an eye on us. But why even give us the job if they're afraid that they can't trust us?"

"Because we're good. And they want to trust us," I replied. "Which means that they will soon enough."

"And when they do…"

"Uh huh."

"I don't like Beemer," she said suddenly. "He's an arrogant little prick, isn't he? Saying he knew there was something going on between us."

"Yeah," I said, forcing out a laugh. "Crazy, huh?"

She hummed a noncommittal response and fell silent for a minute.

"I wonder why they haven't sent in anyone before now," she mused, once again thinking about Marcovic.

"I'm betting that they have," I said.

And I didn't finish that thought.

I left it hanging for a minute, knowing that she would pick up on what I wasn't saying.

Because what was it that Stahl had said?

Couples who weren't really couples were always made.

Did she mean that they'd been made by Marcovic?

Because there was no way that this guy had been running this racket for ten years and then all of a sudden the feds decide to go after him.

With two newbie assets.

No, they'd tried this before and had been burned. And now that they'd learned that we were a package deal, they'd pulled this one out of the back file.

We'd walked ourselves right into it.

I noticed a dark blue sedan drive past us and then park along the curb.

It had been parked near my apartment, too.

You would think that feds would be a little more sneaky with their surveillance, although I guess they figured that since we knew about it, then what was the point of hiding it?

I don't know.

But I was sure that it was them.

And I was suddenly a little worried about being able to pull off our ruse in front of a guy like Marcovic.

In a situation where it could potentially be life or death.

As we came to a stop in front of the restaurant, I decided to do a little more practice.

Because really, our lives depended on it, right?

So before I could give it too much thought, I gave a tug on Eames' hand, pulling her closer to me, and then I leaned down and kissed her.

And maybe I should've warned her of what I was going to do.

But she's a professional.

And apparently she's a professional at more than just undercover work, because she slipped her free hand around the back of my neck and returned my kiss in a fashion that had me fully aroused in a matter of seconds.

It went on for about a minute, a leisurely exploration that felt nothing like a first kiss and everything like a prelude to a more intimate encounter.

And then she pulled away and tipped her head towards the entrance.

"Are you ready?" she asked me. "I'm starving."

Did she really just ask me if I was ready?

If I was any more ready, I'd be arrested for public indecency.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Alex POV**

* * *

Bobby struggled throughout the morning, trying to get into the groove of this relationship thing, but after our talk in the bathroom, he seemed much better.

We had a light lunch and then we spent the afternoon working.

And it felt perfectly normal.

It was like any one of the dozens of times that I'd been at his place over the years, poring over casefiles.

And it had been a good idea to go out to dinner, too.

It was slightly stressing, knowing that someone was recording our every word, so getting out of the apartment would give us a much-needed break from having to censor our conversation.

Although, then we'd be watched, so our actions would have to be calculated, but still…what was the big deal?

I even felt almost carefree as I took Bobby by the hand and walked with him to the restaurant.

But then he'd kissed me.

There'd been no warning and I'd had no clue of what he was about to do. It was honestly the last thing that I'd been expecting.

But I didn't breeze through my time in Vice for nothing.

I know how to go with the flow.

And I don't think that he had any idea what that kiss had done to me.

I mean, I wasn't upset with him.

I'd given him the green light for playing the part. I could only guess that he was treating me like he'd treated girlfriends in the past.

I was pretty sure that he hadn't had any recently, but the man had obviously not forgotten how to kiss.

Because even though he'd started it as something chaste and it had been me who'd intensified it, he hadn't missed a beat.

And all throughout dinner, I kept replaying the feel of his lips on mine…this was definitely way better than any assignment I'd ever had in Vice.

And if I kept this up, when we went back to the department, I was going to wind up with a broken heart.

Because being in love with him without any hope or potential was something I'd learned to deal with.

But experiencing this kind of closeness, knowing what I'd be missing…that was going to be really tough.

"Can I get you two some more wine?" the waitress asked us, interrupting my thoughts.

We'd eaten dinner and had finished off one bottle of wine between the two of us. That was probably more than enough.

I didn't need to be tipsy when it was time to climb into bed with him.

"We're fine," I told her. "Thank you."

"So, you can have the bedroom," he said to me after she left. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Are you serious?" I asked him. "So, you don't snore at all, or breathe heavily, or move while you're sleeping?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," he replied. "I mean, I don't snore," he added with a smile. "But I do tend to breathe."

"They'll hear you, Bobby," I reminded him. "I appreciate the chivalrous gesture, but we both need to sleep in the bed."

He stared at me for a moment and I noticed that the color in his cheeks deepened a little.

Was he thinking about what I was thinking about?

Probably not.

"Don't worry. I won't jump you while you're sleeping," I told him.

"It's not…I wasn't…" he began ineloquently, and then he stopped and sighed. "I don't know why I'm having so much trouble with this. We have a great friendship. I'm not shy around you, and yet suddenly the prospect of getting into bed with you…it has me…"

"Uncomfortable," I supplied. "I get it. I'm not someone that you would ever think of like that, and maybe it's better that way…"

"That's not what I was going to say," he interrupted. "I just meant that…it has me…worried about boundaries."

"So you _are _afraid that I'll jump you," I joked, desperately reaching to keep the moment light.

Because I was nervous about the prospect, too.

Although, oddly enough, or _not_ as the case may be, I wasn't worried about actually _sleeping_ with him.

It was a time when a person is at their most vulnerable, but yet that didn't bother me in the least.

I just wasn't sure of how my subconscious would act while having his body so close to mine.

"It'll be awkward tonight," I conceded. "And then we'll get used to it. Trust me. Just don't hog the blankets and we'll be fine."

My words were much more confident than my thoughts.

And as he stared at me from across the table, I found myself looking at the impossible thickness of his lashes.

I was in so much trouble here.

He reached over and put his hand on top of mine where it rested on the table.

"I can't thank you enough for doing this with me," he said. "I just keep thinking of what I'd be doing right now if I'd entered this alone, and…I just can't imagine."

His sincerity and the warmth of his hand and the darkness of his eyes combined to make my insides melt. That and the memory of his kiss…did I mention that I'm in some serious trouble?

"You're welcome," I replied simply.

We paid the bill and walked back to his apartment.

"Earlier," he said when we were nearing his lobby. "I was thinking about how important this sell is going to be to Marcovic. And about what might have happened to previous agents who'd attempted to infiltrate. And well…that's why I kissed you. I don't want us to look like cops. I want us to look like a happy couple who desperately wants a child."

"I know," I told him. "And I turned it into what I did because no couple kisses so innocently," I added with a smirk. "You kissed me like it was a first kiss."

"It was," he said with a grin.

And there went my stomach again, doing flip-flops at his sweetness.

He pulled me to a stop before we went through the lobby doors, and instead, leaned against the outside of his building.

I stood in front of him, and to my surprise, he settled his hands on my hips. I'd nearly forgotten that we'd been followed to dinner, but his next words reminded me.

"There's that sedan again," he said, although he kept his eyes on mine.

"They're not very subtle, are they?"

"No."

"Well, do you want to try that kiss again and see if you can get it right this time?" I suggested.

What can I say? I enjoy tormenting myself. And the thought of kissing him again was just too good to pass up.

Oh yeah, and it would fit our cover, too.

"Get it right?" he retorted. "I think it was pretty good last time."

"Yeah, but I had to help you out," I reminded him with a smile. And just because I could…because it would look good to our audience, I took a step closer so that our whole bodies were touching.

And maybe it was too bold of a move because I was having trouble remembering that this was a game.

"Eames, I had no idea you were such a tease," he said, but he wasn't smiling any more.

And his voice was deep and rumbling and his eyes were even darker than usual.

"Now you know my secret," I told him as I ran my hands down the front of his shirt.

Then he took his hands off my hips and instead put them on my cheeks, with the tips of his fingers dipping into my hair.

And then he leaned down…so slowly that the anticipation was akin to torture…and then at last he put his lips to mine.

And as innocent as his first effort had been, this one was equally sinful.

It went on and on and my insides were on fire as he expertly worked his mouth over mine.

I swear, I was closer to having an orgasm just from this kiss than I'd been in my last half dozen sexual experiences combined.

When at last he pulled away, I was breathless and swamped with need.

_For him_.

And this was day one of our assignment.

Trouble was the understatement of the year.

"Was that more like the kiss of lovers?" he said huskily.

"That was…yeah," I managed to reply.

I needed to get inside and take a cold shower before I embarrassed myself.

I thought that he'd be cocky as we walked into his building, but he wasn't. In fact, he flashed me a shy smile as we got onto the elevator.

"So, back to open mic night, huh?" he remarked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

We got off the elevator and he brought our joined hands up to his lips. He kissed my knuckles and gave me a wink.

"We can do this," he said confidently.

And I was glad that he'd found his confidence because I seemed to have lost mine.

I just wanted to forget that this was an assignment.

I wanted to drag him into the bedroom where I could have my way with him.

"Do you want to watch some TV before we go to bed?" he asked me as we went into the apartment.

TV.

That would be good.

Something to distract me and hopefully remove from my mind the vivid imagery of the two of us making love.

Before we had to go to bed together.

I glanced at him and he was nodding at me encouragingly.

He wanted me to agree with him.

Because he needed a moment to cool down, too?

Doubtful.

He was probably just a night owl and it was only ten o'clock.

"Sure," I agreed.

So we spent a couple of hours on the couch watching television.

It had been a good idea and it allowed me to gain some perspective since he was no longer touching me. We were both on the couch, but we kept some space in between us.

"I don't think we should rush into requesting Marcovic," he commented during a commercial break.

"Okay," I agreed. "So…you want it to be their idea?"

"Don't you think?"

See, Marcovic's agency was partly a legitimate business.

It did actually help couples with foreign adoption.

But then there was the side business. And we weren't sure what prompted this aspect.

Maybe it was because a couple was turned down for some reason and so they would be unable to adopt through legal channels.

Or maybe it was because the couple had a lot of money and didn't want to wait for the cutting of the red tape.

But Bobby was right. We'd go in and let them decide that we needed the next step.

It might take longer, but it would be more plausible.

"Yeah, I think so," I told him. "So, you know your background, right?"

We had to be sure that we knew all of the details that the Bureau had provided.

They'd done a nice job with our identities.

We were still Bobby and Alex, only now, for this specific undercover, we were Bobby and Alex Goren.

Seeing that name on the driver's license that they'd provided had been strange.

I mean, as a girl, any time I'd had a crush on a boy, I'd always tried out the sound of his last name.

I'd write it out in a notebook.

Alex Camden…Alex Dunlap…and the really good one, Alex Milanesi.

It was funny that when I did get married, I kept my own name.

Besides, I was a grown woman now and I didn't do silly things like jotting down my first name in association with the last name of the man with whom I was in love.

So I'll pretend that I didn't enjoy the look of the name in bold text on the official documents in the file.

But so the identities were as true to life as they could be except that our socials had been altered so that they could fabricate the necessary backgrounds to go along with our story.

I was in real estate.

Bobby was an investment banker.

We had an upscale place near Central Park, but it was currently being renovated which was why we were presently making do in an apartment near Bobby's work.

We'd been married for ten years.

And yeah, that was kind of funny considering that's how long we'd been partners.

Our bank accounts showed that we were extremely well off. We had the funds necessary to do whatever it took to get a child.

We had doctors' records which showed we'd gone through every possible medical procedure in order to have a baby of our own.

And Bobby's criminal record showed a DUI, followed by a six-week stint in rehab. It would be enough to disqualify us from most traditional adoptions.

So we would look good on paper as prospects for Marcovic's operation. All we had to do was sell it in person.

"You want to try this on?" Bobby asked me, holding up the wedding ring that had been provided by the Bureau. "We don't want to have to scramble in the morning if for some reason it doesn't fit."

We'd both noticed the rings earlier when we'd glanced through the file, but neither of us had commented on them.

But he was right.

We needed to be sure that they fit, and we may as well get used to having them on. We'd be wearing them for the duration of this particular case.

I held out my hand, palm up, so that he would give me the ring, but he shook his head and nodded toward my other hand.

The left one.

I mentally berated myself for the fluttering feeling that took up residence in my stomach as I held out my left hand so that Bobby could put the ring on my finger.

"Perfect fit," he remarked with a smile as he brought his eyes up to meet mine.

"Well, now you just committed yourself to me," I joked. "Love, honor, cherish…"

"The ring doesn't make me do that," he replied softly as he put the other ring onto his own finger. "I do that anyway."

I think I stopped breathing for a second until I remembered.

The bugs.

He was saying that for their benefit.

And how stupid was I for even considering otherwise?

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked me, reaching out to touch my cheek.

Now _that_ he was doing because he wanted to, right?

Because they weren't watching.

And I was going to drive myself crazy if I continued to analyze every little action.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him. "I'm just tired. I'm think I'm going to go to bed."

I got up from the couch and started to walk away, but then I stopped.

Because what kind of newly-living-together couple would go to bed separately?

"Are you coming?" I asked him, doing my best to sound coy.

He was still looking at me with concern, but he smiled and got up.

"Let me lock up. I'll be right there."

Twenty minutes later, I found myself lying perfectly still under the covers.

There was no way in the world that I was going to fall asleep when my muscles were this tense.

Because Bobby didn't have a king-sized bed.

He didn't even have a queen.

He had a full-sized bed, which was probably just fine when he was in it alone, but the addition of a second person meant that there wasn't much extra room.

Although I had to admit that I liked the idea that he didn't have a king.

I'd never looked into his bedroom before today, and I'd kind of been expecting that he'd have a large bed so as to maybe better accommodate…entertaining friends from time to time.

"Alex," he whispered, and despite his soft tone, he startled me from my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I had no doubt that he could sense my tension. Bobby was perceptive anyway, and now were we lying together, mere inches apart. And knowing him, he was probably thinking that I was second-guessing my decision to be here, or that I was mad about something.

"I'm sure," I told him.

I knew that he'd get what I wasn't saying.

I'm sure that I'm fine. I'm sure that I want to be here. I'm sure that we're okay.

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to relax. Which, really, was an oxymoron. How can you force relaxation?

But then I tuned into him again as I felt the bed move while he changed positions.

I barely had a chance to register the fact that I could feel his breath on the side of my face when he started whispering, straight into my ear, in a barely-audible voice that would surely be imperceptible to anyone but me.

"Instead of worrying about touching each other maybe we should just go ahead and do it."

His suggestion and the way in which he said it and our closeness and the darkness of the room…there wasn't a single cell in my body that wasn't focused on him.

And while I wasn't a hundred percent sure exactly what he had in mind, it didn't matter. I was going to go along with it.

"Okay," I replied.

The word had barely left my lips before he moved again, this time onto his back, and then he slipped his arm around me and pulled me against him. My head rested against his chest, and his hand settled innocently against the small of my back. I didn't throw my leg over his as I was tempted to do, but I did rest my arm across his waist.

"Is this okay?" he asked, again his voice so quiet that I almost thought I'd imagined it.

"Yeah."

And it was. He'd been right. Now that we were touching, I didn't have to worry so much about doing it accidentally. I took a deep breath and finally started to relax.

I wondered vaguely if our audience had been expecting to get an x-rated earful tonight, especially after witnessing our kiss earlier.

And honestly, if this had been for real and he'd kissed me like that, I would've been all over him as soon as we got into the apartment.

But it was reasonable that we were tired.

We'd been through a lot over the past few days, and surely they weren't going to be documenting our sex life anyway.

But I did need to throw them a bone. I didn't want them suspicious about the authenticity of our relationship. I mean, wasn't that why we were currently holding each other in bed?

"I love you," I told him, although from the sound of his breathing I thought that maybe he was already asleep.

But at my words, his arm tightened along my back, and I felt him press a kiss against the top of my head.

"I love you, too," he answered.

And how pathetic was I to be enjoying this so much?

I mean, I knew that we had a job to do, both for the Bureau and for the department.

So as long as we got it done, who did it hurt if I enjoyed this little fantasy in the mean time?

_Me_, I reminded myself.

It was going to hurt me when it was all over.

Because then he'd go back to being Bobby.

And I'd go back to just being his partner, Alex Eames.

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Eames and I had been undercover for two weeks when we finally got the nod to meet with Marcovic.

"He specializes in cases such as yours where it has been determined that acquiring a child through traditional channels may be a little more…difficult," his secretary explained to me when she called.

Her words translated to mean _if you've got the cash, he'll sell you a baby_.

And the fact that she was calling me at this time of night also suggested that this was taking place off the books of the regular business.

"That would be great," I told her. "We really appreciate it. When can we meet with him?"

I made the appointment and then hung up the phone and went to find Eames.

And yeah, I still called her Eames in my head, but I was doing pretty good about calling her Alex out loud.

"We're in," I told her as I slipped into the bathroom behind her. "Tomorrow morning at nine."

She was standing at the sink, brushing her teeth, but she'd left the door open which meant that I was welcome.

Over the course of the past two weeks, we'd gradually gotten to the point where the door was open more often than it was closed.

I mean, of course she closed it anytime there was clothing removal involved.

Except for that one time…

"It's about time," she commented, interrupting my favorite pastime of reliving that one specific moment. "I don't know how people do this for real without going insane. All of the questions and the prodding into our personal lives…it's a good thing that we're good at this."

"We are, aren't we?" I said with a smile.

And I had no reason for being in the bathroom other than that's where she was.

I'd already changed clothes into suitable sleeping apparel and I was ready for bed.

It was only ten-thirty, which was early for me, but since Eames had moved in with me, I'd started assimilating to her routine.

And she liked to be in bed by eleven.

I tried not to think about how much I enjoyed sleeping with her.

And I _really_ tried not to think about how hard it would be to go back to sleeping alone once this thing was over.

That first night, she'd been tight as a drum, and so I'd done the only thing I could think of. I'd broken the ice by suggesting that we just go ahead and hold each other.

It had been a scary proposition for me because it had taken a considerable amount of time for my body to settle down after that scorching kiss we'd shared outside of the building.

But the prospect of her not sleeping because she was too afraid to touch me, well…I couldn't deal with that either.

So I'd made the suggestion and then I'd made myself think of other things…other disgusting, nonsexual things…while I put my arm around her and she snuggled up against my side.

I'd touched her more in those first twenty-four hours of the assignment than I had in the past decade and yet all it did was make me want to touch her more.

But that night, my body behaved as my mind displayed a slideshow of old crime scene images.

Until she'd said that she loved me.

And surely she said it for the benefit of others.

But I loved the sound of the words coming from her lips, and the way her hand lightly clenched the fabric of my t-shirt as she said it, and then the soft little sigh that escaped afterwards.

I couldn't resist hugging her tighter against me and kissing the softness of her hair.

I'd replied in kind and without the distraction of gruesome mental images, I was instantly, fully hard.

I fought off a wave of panic that rushed through me at the realization of how close her arm was to that specific region, but then I managed to stay calm.

This was Eames.

She wasn't going to be groping me in the dark.

In fact, it had seemed as though she was very nearly asleep.

So I could just relax, and in the morning, my hard-on would be…well, probably still there, but in any case, I'd just let her get up first and then I could be discreet about it.

Surely she knew the basic physiological make-up of the male body and she wouldn't hold me accountable if she somehow managed to…stumble across my secret.

The first night had gone off without a hitch.

And then the next day was easier.

So was the next night.

She'd been right about that.

After the initial awkwardness was over, it was really kind of nice.

I had my best friend with me all of the time. And she told me that she loved me on a daily basis.

When we were in public, she held my hand. And we did a lot more kissing.

I had no idea if she knew what I was doing when I was alone in the shower, but I couldn't let myself think about that.

I didn't want to know if she'd be upset with the idea that it was her face in my head when I satisfied my most basic needs.

And to be honest, I had to do it a lot more often than I used to because when we weren't working, the stimulus that she was unwittingly providing was keeping me in a near-constant state of arousal.

"Stahl said that if we can get the in with Marcovic, then she wants us to meet with a task force that will be assembled to work on the take-down," she said to me as she put her toothbrush away.

She put her hand on my arm and moved me out of the doorway so that she could close the door.

Then she turned on the water and leaned back against the counter.

We could usually get in a few minutes a day like this, talking where we wouldn't be heard.

"That means entrance into the federal building," I stated quietly. "That'll be a good opportunity to make some notes on key players. Is Beemer going to be on the task force?"

"She didn't say, but I bet so. She'll use people in her circle."

"Which means one of them might be our mole."

"Uh huh," she replied with a smile. "Step one, right?"

"Oh, I think we're well past step one. But we definitely need to make this meeting with Marcovic count. I have a feeling that we won't get a second chance."

"It'll work," she said confidently. "And you know, it's probably good that it took two weeks to get the meeting."

"We're a lot more comfortable around each other now," I replied knowingly.

And she was right.

As much as we thought we'd been good before, we'd come a long way.

Now, we were literally like a married couple.

Without the sex.

And really, without the fights. We'd had a few bicker sessions from time to time, but for the most part it had been smooth sailing.

"Ready?" she asked, with her hand on the faucet. I gave her a nod, and so she turned off the water and opened the door.

She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, which was what she'd deemed as acceptable sleeping attire.

They were just gym shorts and I was sure that she didn't consider them to be sexy, but they fit her perfectly and left a considerable expanse of leg uncovered.

I couldn't help but watch her as she walked away from me and headed for the bed.

And then she turned around and caught me…staring at her ass.

"I'm…I…"

And then I stopped because I couldn't apologize when everything we were saying was being recorded.

She ducked her head quickly, but I saw the smile and the blush.

_At least she's not going to kill me_, I thought.

Which is what I'd thought that she was going to do that other day.

The time when she'd left the bathroom door open just a little, and so I thought that it meant I was allowed to come in.

But when I'd opened the door, she'd been bent over, pulling off her pants.

With her back to me, which meant that I had quite the view.

"Alex," I'd begun as I entered the room, and then she'd startled and stood up quickly, whirling around so that then she'd stood in front of me in just a t-shirt and underwear.

And not a long t-shirt. A short, snug-fitting one that stopped right at her waist.

So despite the fact that at that point, I'd been sure that my days were numbered, I'd taken another moment to soak in the sight of her.

And I don't know if it was because she was too shocked to move, or because she couldn't think of what to say that would be acceptable for our eavesdroppers, or what, but she just stood there while my eyes traveled the length of her rather delectable body.

Twice.

Okay, actually it was three times, but the third time was really quick.

"Did you check in with Stahl today?" I'd finally managed to ask.

And I have no idea where those words came from, but at least it was something viable that we could work with.

"Not yet," she'd told me.

"Okay, well…I'll take care of it."

And then I'd hustled out of the bathroom.

That had been a week ago.

I'd behaved myself since then.

And once we'd left the apartment the next day, I'd properly apologized.

"It was my fault," she'd told me. "I should've closed the door all the way."

"I shouldn't have pushed it open," I'd continued.

"Bobby, it's fine. We're living together. It's going to happen," she'd said. "Besides, it's not like you saw me naked or anything."

_And thank you, Eames, for throwing that visual at me_.

I'd had to shower twice that day.

And twice the next day, too.

But so now tonight, two weeks in, I was stone cold busted staring at my partner's ass.

"Do you see something you like?" she teased.

See, she liked to do that.

She's always been sarcastic. Her quick, cynical wit is one of the things that I like about her.

Or rather, _love_ about her.

And since she didn't seem to know what to do with the knowledge that I'd been checking her out, she fell back onto her typical response, which was to be a smartass.

For some reason, she seemed to think that her coquetry didn't bother me.

She thought that I wasn't the least bit attracted to her, so her innocent flirtations didn't affect me.

She couldn't be more wrong.

But since she was having fun, playing up to our interlopers, I went along with it.

Besides, so far we hadn't given them any thing good to listen to. And I had to wonder when they might get suspicious about that.

"Yes, I do," I growled, and then I pounced on her.

She let out a squeal of surprise that caught me off guard.

It sounded so feminine and carefree.

But I didn't let my enjoyment at the noise she'd made deter me.

Instead, I pinned her to the bed and tickled her mercilessly.

Her laughter filled the room, and the feeling of her body squirming beneath me, inadvertently rubbing up against mine as she tried to throw me off of her…it was too much.

I stopped tickling and kissed her instead.

A real kiss, not one done for sound effects, because in those minutes I completely forgot about any kind of surveillance.

And when I realized what I was doing, _holding her down while I kissed her_, I abruptly stopped and released her hands from where I'd had them pinned over her head.

"I'm…Alex, I…"

"Shut up," she replied as she grabbed my face in her hands and kissed me again.

My brain shut down as my body took over.

She kept one hand along the side of my face, but she ran the other one down my back, pulling me tighter up against her.

I had no doubt that she could feel my erection pressing into her but there wasn't anything that I could do about it.

And it didn't seem to bother her, so I tried to ignore it while at the same time I found myself pushing against her in a gentle rhythm in an effort to ease my intense need for her.

I tore my mouth away from hers but continued to kiss her, only now it was along her neck, her jaw, her ear…anyway, everywhere…

"Bobby," she said on a breathy sigh.

"I know, I know," I murmured.

Who knew that this would feel so good?

Okay, I did.

But who knew that she'd let me do this?

And that thought caused my movements to falter.

Was she doing this because she _wanted_ to?

Or because she'd realized the same thing as me, and had decided that we were being entirely too chaste for two people in love?

I had to stop.

I didn't want to.

I _really_ didn't want to, but I couldn't keep pushing her forward.

I mean, how could she protest when we were being overheard?

My lips were still at her ear, so I whispered softly into it.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away," I confessed.

I listened to her take in several deep breaths before she responded.

And her words told me everything that I needed to know.

"It's okay," she said, her breath tickling my ear. "I'm sure it sounded good, right?"

"Right," I replied lamely. I rolled off of her, over onto my back and let out a heavy sigh.

"Hey," she said questioningly as she turned onto her side and ran her hand over my chest.

And yes, I had on a shirt, and yes, she did that a lot since we'd started sleeping together, but still…at the moment the contact was torture.

Her fingers blazed a scorching trail that I could feel as though she was touching my skin directly.

I had an uncontrollable, raging hard-on that I wasn't sure what to do with, and I realized that I was desperately in love with this woman who was simply here out of duty and commitment.

"Are you okay?" she asked when I wouldn't look at her.

And then I realized how much we were screwing up.

What would this sound like if someone happened to be listening right now?

I mean, surely they didn't monitor us twenty-four seven, but who knew when they did?

And we'd gone from making out to her asking me if I was okay.

Great, it was going to sound like I was suffering from erectile dysfunction.

And believe me, there was nothing malfunctioning in that department at the moment, unless you counted the fact that I wasn't sure how to get it to go away.

But so yeah, this was going to sound bad.

This was the kind of thing that messed up undercover operations.

When real feelings got in the way.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as I got up from the bed. "I'm not feeling well. I'll be right back."

I hustled into the bathroom and closed the door.

And then locked it.

I had to get my head in the game or I was going to blow this whole operation.

I turned on the water and washed my face. And then I heard the soft knock on the door.

"Let me in," she said.

I unlocked the door, and she came in and closed it behind her. Then she turned on the faucet.

"I am really sorry," she said.

"You're sorry? For what?"

"I shouldn't have teased you like that. I mean, here you are, stuck with me in this fallacy and you can't…you're not able to…" she broke off and looked down at the floor, suddenly uncomfortable.

But since I wasn't entirely sure where she was going, I just waited until she came up with the right words.

"If you need to…you know, um…break surveillance for…you know…so that you can find you someone who will…"

And then I finally had it.

"Are you talking about sex?"

"Well, I mean…it's just that…"

She was completely flustered and it was so unlike her that I had to laugh.

"Bobby, I'm serious," she said. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, it's been two weeks…at _least _two weeks, and you're stuck here with me, so it's only natural that…you know."

"Eames, trust me. I have gone much longer than two weeks without sex," I told her.

"Oh, well…okay, I just thought that I'd offer. I mean, it may come up at some point because we're really just getting started with this, and I didn't want you to think that you couldn't talk to me about it. We can work something out."

And then another thought hit me.

"Do you need to?" I asked her.

"Me? No," she said, and now she started chuckling. "No, I'm fine."

"Okay, good. So we're both fine," I said, and I finally trusted myself to reach out and touch her again. I put my hand under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at me. "I'm sorry for earlier. I was trying to have some fun, and then it got…"

"Yeah," she agreed, even though I didn't really elaborate. "So, we're okay?"

"Absolutely."

We left the bathroom together and got into the bed.

We'd already established who slept on which side and which position was the most comfortable for both of us…like I said, we're a married couple without the sex.

So despite the frenzied make-out session from earlier, we both settled under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

I don't know what time it was when I awoke to the sound of her voice.

And the feel of her body.

Because although we'd started out innocently enough, with her on her side next to me, our positions had evolved.

She now had one leg thrown across me, up high so that her thigh was rubbing up against my renewed erection. Her hand was under my shirt, her nails skimming across my chest.

"Bobby," she murmured.

Reflexively, I tightened my grip on her.

I wasn't sure what to do, because I had a feeling that she was dreaming.

And then I wondered if maybe _I _was the one who was dreaming.

"Bobby," she said again, and this time her hand slid downwards until it reached the waistband of my shorts.

I had to stop her.

As desperately as I wanted to feel her touch, I still had to stop her.

I grabbed onto her hand to still the motion, and I squeezed her to me again.

"Alex."

I knew the exact moment that she became aware of our situation.

She stiffened and sucked in a breath and I just knew that an apology was going to come rushing from her lips, so I kissed her.

"Go back to sleep," I whispered. "It was just a dream."

The next morning, Eames came into the bathroom while I was shaving. She closed the door behind her and then went and sat on the edge of the tub.

"I'm really sorry about last night."

"You remember that?"

"Yeah, I…wow. I guess we started talking about it and then went to straight to bed, and…"

"It was only natural that it was on your mind," I assured her. "And hey, aren't you the one who said no apologies?"

"You're right," she said with a nod.

"Exactly," I assured her. "You know, when I first realized that we were going to be living together, I was afraid that we'd end up fighting a lot. It didn't occur to me that…well, you know."

"That I'd end up groping you while you slept?" she said on a chuckle. And I was glad to see that at least she had a sense of humor about it. "I guess you were right that first day. I _did_ try to jump you while you slept."

"Well, try a little harder next time, will you?" I joked.

She smiled and shook her head and then nudged me out of the way so that she could use the mirror to put on her make-up.

"So. Marcovic today," she stated. "We need to be suitably desperate, right?"

"Inquisitive without being too nosy. Interested without being too obvious."

"I'm betting they'll get someone to check us out after today. If he likes us, I mean."

"He'll like us. And yeah, they'll have to make sure that we're on the up and up."

"Which, of course, we are," she said with a smile. "And then we can meet with that task force. My money's on Beemer."

"Normally, I would agree with you, but…I don't know. He kind of seems like the obvious choice, doesn't he?"

She caught my eye in the mirror as we both went about our tasks, and something about the whole scenario created a warm feeling in my stomach.

"Sometimes obvious is accurate," she said simply.

I couldn't argue with that.

Because wasn't it obvious that I was in love with her?

"We should probably check in with Maas some time today, too," she continued, oblivious to my thoughts.

"Good idea. We'll blow the feds after the meeting with Marcovic and meet Maas somewhere in Jersey for lunch."

"Yeah, well just remember that you can't kiss me in front of Maas," she teased, turning around so that now she was between me and the counter.

"Says who?" I replied, leaning down so that our lips were only inches apart.

"Says the NYPD," she remarked, although she didn't sound very convincing to me.

Besides, what we did on our own time was our business, right? Weren't we sort of, technically, no longer working for the department?

"I'm not afraid of Maas," I said, moving in even closer.

I hesitated briefly, just to see if she'd move away, and when she didn't, I kissed her.

Lightly at first, and then I set my razor down on the counter and put my arms around her, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

I stopped before I could get too carried away, and then I reached for the towel so that I could wipe off the shaving cream that had found its way onto her face.

"I'll be ready in ten minutes," I told her as I gently removed the shaving cream.

"Okay. Me, too."

Then she slipped out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to finish my task.

And that was when it hit me.

We'd been in the bathroom with the door closed.

No one was listening and no one was watching.

I'd kissed her.

And she'd let me.

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Alex POV**

* * *

It was early evening in the middle of June.

Bobby and I had been undercover for ten weeks.

We'd gotten Marcovic to buy our story.

We'd promised to pay him nearly a million dollars for the purchase of a six-month old baby.

Two hours ago, we'd gotten word from the feds that his people had been caught kidnapping that baby from a daycare in Moskva.

Thirty minutes ago, his warehouse in Brighton Beach had been raided. Ten young girls were being held there against their will, waiting for the organization to sell them out to families.

Measures had been put into place by the Bureau task force to keep the news of the busts from getting to Marcovic.

The last piece of the puzzle would be for us to hand over the money to him at which point he would give us the contact name for the man who would bring us our baby.

So at the moment, Bobby and I were sitting on a bench in Central Park with a suitcase full of Bureau money at our feet.

Marcovic only accepted payment in cash and he was due to arrive any minute.

He was probably watching us from somewhere, just to make sure that we hadn't been followed.

Of course, we were pros with that by now.

Ten weeks of living in a fish bowl made a few minutes of being spied on through binoculars seem like a piece of cake.

And there were agents around the park. But they'd been here for hours and blended in so well that even I couldn't make them all out. I didn't even try.

Instead, the two of us sat quietly on the bench, hand in hand.

We couldn't talk about what came next for us because the Bureau was listening.

And we couldn't talk about what had happened earlier because Maas was listening, too.

He'd wanted to make sure that we didn't somehow get double-crossed and end up like Ross.

So while I was annoyed by the intrusion, I appreciated his tenacity and his commitment to our safety.

But so me and Bobby just sat there without talking at all.

And then at last, Marcovic showed up.

I hoped that I wouldn't need the gun that I had strapped to my thigh, beneath my skirt, but it actually went quite smoothly.

Even the part where Bobby and I got arrested right along with Marcovic after we made the exchange of money for information.

Agents swarmed the scene and I found myself face first down on the pavement.

We'd known that it was going to go down like this, but still…I thought that Beemer was a little bit rougher with me than he needed to be.

And he spent a little too much time patting me down.

But I kept my mouth shut as he slapped on the cuffs and pulled me up into a standing position.

Marcovic was cursing in Russian, but he didn't seem to be suspicious of us at all.

He appeared to buy the fact that we were in just as much trouble as he was.

Although, of course, he was in much deeper trouble than he realized, but it was good that he wasn't connecting us as the source of his problems.

I made eye contact with Bobby as the two of us were shoved into the back of the blue sedan that had been our shadow for weeks.

"Just sit tight," Beemer barked as he slammed the door shut.

"Don't say it," Bobby warned me as he guessed what was about to come out of my mouth.

And he was right.

I mean, if they'd bugged our house, then who could say if their car was bugged as well?

And since when did I start thinking of it as _our _house?

I let out a heavy sigh as I leaned back against the seat and turned my head to look out the side window.

I really wanted to finish the conversation that Bobby and I had begun earlier, but obviously now wasn't the time.

So instead, I had to sit there and stew about it.

And I was definitely stewing.

He'd been…impossible, and I'd been…well, downright bitchy.

I'd been in the bathroom and I'd left the door open a few inches.

It's not like I was getting ready to take a shower or something. I was just changing my shirt.

And I had a tank top underneath so really, I could've left the door wide open and what would it have hurt?

But so I pulled the outer shirt over my head and that was when Bobby had come in the room.

He'd stopped short and abruptly turned around so that his back was to me.

"Alex," he'd said sharply. "You need to close the damn door."

"Why?"

"Because…" he started and then he'd stepped backwards into the room and slammed the door shut before turning on the faucet. "Because when you leave it open then I think I can come in."

"You can," I'd answered simply.

What was the big deal?

I was almost wearing the same amount of clothes that I wore to bed every night.

_His_ bed.

"You're changing clothes," he argued.

"Just my shirt," I answered.

I was still holding the one I'd planned to put on in my hand, so at the time, I'd been standing there in my skirt and the tank top.

Perfectly respectable.

"You think that isn't a big deal?" he'd asked, and then he'd finally turned around to look at me, and I watched as his eyes raked over me. "It _is_ a big deal. And I'd appreciate it if you'd have a little more consideration."

"Consideration?"

I was at a loss as to what had brought on his anger, but I had a little bit of it building, too.

"Yeah, you act like I'm your brother or something and that it doesn't affect me to see you like this. Alex…I'm _not_ your brother, okay? It _does_ affect me."

And even though I was beginning to grasp his point, it didn't keep me from getting pissed off.

And maybe it was just because we'd been in each other's pockets for ten weeks.

Maybe it was like torture to be allowed close intimate contact with him only to be reminded that it was just for show.

Maybe it was because it hurt to be so desperately in love with him and yet to know that once this case was over, we'd go back to being just partners.

Because even though I'd seen signs of lust in his eyes, desire for me that had to be more than just pretend, it was still only because I was the only woman around.

It was like giving a starving man a cracker.

He wasn't going to give back the saltine just because he wanted a Ritz.

But maybe for once, _I _wanted to be the Ritz.

So yeah, I was in a pissy mood and I took it out on him.

"Yeah, well I offered to take you to Atlantic City and get you laid and you said no, so who's fault is that?"

And okay, here's the thing.

I've never been afraid of Bobby.

I may have been afraid _for_ him.

Or afraid of something he might _do,_ in the sense of potentially damaging his career type thing.

But I've never been afraid of _him_.

But the anger that flashed through his eyes at my crass and obnoxious remark had me taking a small step backwards.

He reacted by taking two big steps forward so that he was right in front of me.

"Is that what you think I'm after?" he asked harshly. "You think this is just about sex? That I can't control myself around you because I need to get laid?"

I stood there, speechless, as I watched him rein in his temper. He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, but his touch wasn't rough.

In fact it was paradoxically gentle.

He dropped his eyes to the floor for a minute, and then when he brought them up again to meet mine, I was struck by the intensity of emotion in them.

"I can't control myself around you because I want you, okay? You. And I'm not just talking about sex. Are you happy now that I've admitted it? I didn't want to tell you because you're stuck with me in this job and I didn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are…I mean, damn it, Alex, I'm going crazy here."

"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I didn't think…"

"I know you didn't think," he interrupted sharply.

He was a contradiction of emotions and I didn't know what to do with him.

He was holding me like I was something to be cherished and yet his words were harsh and held a bite to them that I hadn't heard from him in a long time. Not towards me anyway.

And he wasn't done.

"Because you seem to think that I don't find you attractive, and I don't know where the hell you came up with that idea because you're a smart woman and you have a mirror, so it shouldn't be that hard for you to figure out," he said. "But somehow you don't see it, and you keep pushing me and there's only so much that I can take."

"I'm sorry," I said again, although I wasn't exactly sure for what I was apologizing. My mind was about two steps behind.

"I don't want you to be sorry!" he shouted in frustration. "I want you to…I just…damn it, Alex, I didn't want to do this right now. I wanted to wait, but I can't, so I guess I'm the one who's sorry."

"For what?"

"Because I love you, okay? I love you. I'm in love with you. And now you know, and yet you're still stuck here with me, so…I don't know. I don't know what you want to do with that, but there it is, okay?"

"No you don't," I said quickly. And I don't know why I said it, but that was what came out. Surely not the response he'd hoped for, but really, he'd been yelling at me so I'm not sure what he expected me to say.

"I don't? You're going to argue with me about…about how I feel?"

"We've just been too close," I reasoned, and I was in a full-blown panic.

He couldn't love me, and the idea that he thought he did…that was only going to hurt worse once this assignment was over.

Because at least now I knew that he was just pretending, but if it was real, or he thought it was real, and then that went away, too…I couldn't do it.

I had to protect myself.

"It's just a natural reaction to our proximity," I continued.

"Alex…"

"No, don't say it again," I insisted. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're saying that I don't know my own mind? My own heart? I'm telling you that I love you. And we're behind closed doors. It's just you and me."

And then he'd kissed me.

He'd done it once before when we were in the bathroom.

I'd realized later that it had happened despite the fact that we weren't being observed, but I'd just chalked it up to habit.

We'd gotten used to kissing from time to time as a part of our act, so it stood to reason that it might happen even when it wasn't necessary.

And yeah, I'd been fooling myself.

But like I said, it was self-preservation.

And then this afternoon, he'd done it again.

After yelling out his confession.

He'd still had his hands on my shoulders, but he'd stepped even closer to me so that I was backed into the wall and then he'd slid his hands down my arms until his fingers clasped mine.

And when I'd been expecting a rough and passionate meeting of lips, instead he gave me a sweet and tender exploration that had made my knees weak in a matter of seconds.

He kept me guessing and off-balance, that was for sure.

We stood in the bathroom and kissed like long-lost lovers until his cell phone rang.

He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes filled with not only want, but anger, too.

"Don't tell me how I feel," he said firmly. And then he let go of my hands and took a step back from me. "We'll come back to this, okay?"

"Okay."

The call that had come in was the instructions from Marcovic which led to the meeting in the park.

So all afternoon while we were planning the culmination of our ten-week long sting, my head was a mess.

But, as I keep reminding myself, I am a professional.

Work came first, especially something as important as this.

Wrapping up this case would give us the credibility we needed with the feds so that we would be allowed a little more leeway.

So that we could then start actively pursuing the Ross case, which was the point of this whole exercise.

So even though Bobby's declaration was something I've dreamed about for years, and even though I'd ruined it by telling him that he was wrong and that he couldn't possibly love me, I set all of that aside and did my job.

And I tried not to analyze the fact that he held my hand while we sat on the bench and waited for Marcovic. I mean, we were a couple about to buy a baby. He was being a good husband, being supportive of his wife in a stressful situation. He was playing his part.

Because surely he was mad as hell at me, and he'd probably already worked out a way to retract his statement of love.

So now, sitting in the back of the car, I just wanted to get him alone.

_Alone_, alone.

No bugs.

No binoculars.

Because I'd realized something over the course of the past four hours.

I'd been such an idiot.

The man I loved had said that he loved me, and what did I do?

I'd refuted it.

I'd argued against the possibility all for the sake of protecting my heart.

_Yeah, because my heart was feeling pretty good right about now._

I let out another heavy sigh, completely annoyed with myself.

"Is it that bad?" he asked me quietly.

And the sadness in his voice brought tears to my eyes.

It seemed I was screwing things up exponentially without saying a word.

I saw that Agent Stahl was approaching the car, and the car that Marcovic had been put into was driving away.

She opened the back door, and gestured for us to get out.

I awkwardly scooted myself out of the car and Bobby followed, and then Stahl took off our handcuffs.

"Nice work, guys," she said. "You've got two days off, and then the boss wants you to report to the federal building."

"He's pulling us out of undercover?"

"Not really, but between cases, you'll be working there like the rest of us. And apparently another agent heard that we'd acquired you, and has requested your assistance on a case. So now that you've proven yourselves, well…the boss is willing to give you some rope. Don't hang yourselves."

"Thanks," I replied at her backhanded compliment. "What agent?"

"You'll find out on Monday," she said as she walked around to get into the car. "Nine o'clock. Don't be late."

"Nine o'clock," I scoffed. In the old days, we would show up at 1PP around seven. Nine would be like a vacation.

"Hey!" Bobby called out to her just before she shut the door. "So are we out of our trial period?"

"Yeah," she replied with a smile.

"No more surveillance?"

"Hey, it's the government," she shrugged. "I'm not making any promises."

I glared at Beemer as he walked across the parking lot and climbed into the passenger side of the sedan and then the two of them drove away.

Everyone else was gone by this point, too, so it was just me and Bobby.

And we had forty-eight hours of down time.

And I was suddenly nervous as hell.

I watched the taillights on the sedan until they were out of sight, and then I pulled the button from my shirt that was the department wire. I tossed it into my purse while Bobby made a quick call to Maas.

"Yeah, I don't know who it is, but I'm curious to find out," he said. "Yeah, we will. Eames removed the bug, so we're off duty until Monday, okay?"

He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, but he kept his eyes focused on the ground.

We'd ridden to the park in a cab, but it was such a temperate night that I suggested that we walk for awhile.

"We can head in the right direction, and when we get tired, we'll get a cab," I said.

"That's fine," he replied blandly.

He wasn't going to make this easy on me, and I suppose that was only fair. I sure as hell hadn't made things easy on him.

"So…" I began cautiously after we'd walked for a couple of blocks. "About earlier."

"Eames, you know what? Just forget it," he said, and the words were hurtful, even though his tone was gentle. "I shouldn't have said anything. And you didn't do anything wrong. It's my problem, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," I said as I gathered my resolve.

And then because we were walking side by side and yet I wanted to see his face, I stopped him by grabbing onto his arm and pulling him over to the low wall that bordered the outside of the park. He sat down on the rock surface of the wall and I stood in front of him.

And then it started to rain, a light misting of moisture, but I didn't care.

We were at a crossroads.

And I had to make sure that we took the right path together.

"I…didn't want you to…confuse your feelings," I began. And maybe it wasn't the most eloquent of starts, but it was a start nonetheless. So I plowed ahead. "I was afraid that since we've been spending so much time together that you would mistake that for love."

"I'm not a kid," he reminded me.

"I know that," I said, closing my eyes and trying to find a way to regroup. It was all or nothing. "See, I'm in love with you," I stated. "But I kept pretending that I wasn't, and so when you said that today, it was like exactly what I wanted only I thought that it was…I don't know, almost like cheating. By you being forced to live with me and spend all of your time with me, I thought that maybe it was like putting you under a spell to make you love me."

"I was in love with you before this job," he said quietly.

And then finally…_finally_, he brought his eyes up to mine. And then he reached his hand out and grabbed hold of mine.

"_Before_ you moved in with me. And maybe this situation has forced my hand by making me be honest about it…I'll buy that…but it has nothing to do with how I feel."

"Before?"

"Yeah," he said, and now a smile began to play at his lips. "Unless you want to argue about that and tell me that it's not true."

The rain began to fall harder now, but I barely registered its existence. Instead, I locked my eyes onto his as he slowly got to his feet and wrapped his arms around me.

"So, I'm sorry," he said as he buried his face into the crook of my neck. "But I think I missed something. What was that thing you said just a minute ago?"

I exhaled deeply and broke into a smile.

"Which thing?" I teased. "About you being confused, or…"

"Alex," he entreated softly.

And really, I'd waited long enough to say it for real. Almost too long. I'd almost messed everything up.

"I love you," I said confidently.

And I'd said it a hundred times over the past ten weeks, but now he was the only one who was listening.

To my surprise, he hugged me close, picking me up until my feet came off of the ground.

"We've got our work cut out for us," he said, still holding me up. Then he swung me around until I could stand on the wall, which made me about a foot taller than him.

"Uh huh," I agreed, liking the change in our positions. I leaned down and kissed him, running my fingers through his now-wet hair and then grabbing hold so that I could dictate the angle of the kiss.

"Goren?"

I pulled back quickly as an unknown person carrying an umbrella crossed the road to where we were standing.

Bobby turned around and I stepped down off the wall to stand beside him.

"I thought that was you. And Eames…"

It was Mike Logan. And he stood there grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"How the hell are you guys? I heard that you're not with the department anymore."

I watched Logan as he gave Bobby a hug, slapping on his back enthusiastically, and then he moved over to hug me as well.

I'd always liked him, but I hadn't seen much of him since he'd left the department the year before.

"We're good," Bobby answered. Logan kept smiling and looked back and forth between the two of us.

"Uh huh. I can see that."

"It's…not what you think," I said quickly.

"It's not?" Bobby and Logan asked me simultaneously.

"Well, I mean…"

And I was stumped.

Were we keeping our cover for Logan? And which cover was that, exactly?

Or was it that Bobby just didn't care about him seeing us because he wasn't with the NYPD?

Oh, we had so many ground rules to go over.

"I was headed into Mahoney's for a beer," Logan said with an understanding nod. "Come on. You two look like you could use a drink."

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

**Bobby POV**

* * *

I was soaking wet.

So was Eames.

I know this because as we'd walked into the bar, I'd had to work really hard to not be obvious while I stared at how her clothes were molded to her body.

And trust me. They were molded perfectly.

I couldn't stop the shot of arousal that rolled through me at the idea that one day, maybe one day soon, I'd be able to see that body first hand.

Without the wet clothes.

Because she loved me.

And I didn't suspect that just because declarations had been made that we'd now be jumping into the bed together. At least, not in a way any different than we already did, but still…we'd surely get there someday soon.

A wide grin crossed my face just at the thought, and beneath the table, I slid my hand onto her thigh and gave it a little squeeze.

"So, what gives?" Logan asked when he came back from the bar with three glasses in his hand. He set them on the table and then sat down in the seat across from us and looked at us expectantly.

"About…" Eames replied noncommittally.

"Well, I leave town for a year and I come back and the city's gone to hell."

"Where'd you go?" I asked him.

I was stalling the inevitable because I knew that he was going to get around to asking what me and Eames had been doing kissing like that. And surely he'd noticed the wedding bands.

But I was trying to determine exactly how much to tell him.

"North Carolina," he replied. And I wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd said that he'd been on the moon.

"What's in North Carolina?"

"Exactly," he answered. "You know, I thought I needed to get away from this place. And when I got the offer to head up a small town police department…I had to give it a shot. But it turns out I've got too much New York in me. Who knew?"

"I did," Eames said with a grin.

"Yeah, I did, too," I added.

"Well, thanks for the heads up on that one."

"I don't remember you asking," she reminded him.

"No. I know. And even though it wasn't for me, I think it was a good thing that I left. It makes me appreciate this place that much more."

"How long have you been back?"

"A month. I'm sorry that I wasn't here…you know, when Ross…" He trailed off, but then he lifted his glass and said simply, "To Captain Ross."

We all took a drink from our glasses, and then he set his down on the table and looked at us seriously.

"So tell me what's going on."

I looked at Eames and I could tell that she was debating the same thing as me.

_How much do we tell him_?

"There's a lot going on," she said at last.

"I can see that. Wheeler told me that you fired him a few days after the funeral," he said, tipping his head in my direction but still looking at her. He almost looked accusatory, and I appreciated his support even though it was misdirected.

"You've spoken with her?" Eames asked, ignoring his statement.

"Yeah. She decided not to go back to the department, but she still has friends there."

"And what else do her friends say?"

"Eames, what happened? What _is_ happening?"

At her continued silence, he turned to me.

"So she fires you, and you're okay with that? You guys were kissing out on the sidewalk. I mean, I always thought there might be something going on, but…"

"Okay, here's the thing," I said. "We're…working on something. Okay?"

"Something. That's all I get?"

"What do you want us to say, Logan?" Eames asked.

He looked back and forth between us and then sat back in his seat.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just itching to get back into the game."

"What makes you think we're in the game? You said it yourself. We don't work for the NYPD anymore."

"I'll back off," he agreed. "Let's just catch up. So you guys are an item now? Or is that part of this thing you're working on that you don't want to talk about?"

Alex let out a sigh and propped her head in her hand, with her elbow resting on the table.

My hand was still on her leg, and I was starting to get distracted by that.

Because the air conditioning was on in here, and I'd felt her skin cooling as it dried, and so I'd begun to rub my hand back and forth over her thigh in an effort to warm her up and in the process, I'd managed to shift the damp fabric of her skirt until it was mid-way up her thigh.

It had been unintentional, but still…so now, half of my hand was resting on bare skin.

And I know.

I'm a grown man and the idea of touching a woman on the leg shouldn't be so all-consuming.

But considering that I'd been living with her for more than two months and I'd been constantly tortured with the sight of said legs every night when we went to bed and yet I hadn't been allowed to touch them, at least not like this, so well…surely it's understandable as to why this might be a distraction.

And I know this wasn't the time or place, although you know what?

It kind of was.

Because we were off-duty and we were in a place where no one knew us except Logan and who was he going to tell?

Really, who was he going to tell about _any _of it?

It might actually be kind of nice to have someone who knew the whole story instead of only being able to share parts of it with different people.

I squeezed Eames' leg again to get her attention.

She tilted her head to look at me, with her cheek still resting in the palm of her hand.

Her damp hair, which had grown fairly long in recent months, was brushing against the table and as she settled her bourbon-colored eyes onto mine I had to force myself to stay focused.

But I had a knot in the pit of my stomach and a buzzing feeling in my head and a tightening in my groin just from the way she looked at me.

Never in my life had I wanted a woman so much.

And now that I knew I could have her…that she wanted me too…was it any wonder that I couldn't think of anything else?

"Um…yeah, okay, well, maybe I should leave you two alone," Logan said suddenly, breaking my lustful trance.

"No," I said, although I continued to look at Eames. I asked the question without saying a word and she gave me a subtle nod.

_Soon enough, I'd be able to look at every inch of her_, I reminded myself.

So for now, I made myself look away.

"This can't leave the table," I began.

"I had a feeling," he remarked.

"We're serious," Eames added.

"I'm in," he said with a slow nod. "You can trust me."

So we told him.

About what had happened with Ross, the suspected mole, the fake suspension and subsequent firing.

"And so you quit to go undercover with him?" he asked Eames. "They bought that?"

"We told them that we're in love," she explained. "Obviously the department won't go for that, and then when they forced me to fire him, that was the last straw."

He nodded, and I could literally hear the gears turning in his brain.

"So outside earlier…that was because it's your cover? Are you under surveillance?"

"We have been for more than two months," I told him, without confirming or denying the reason for our earlier kiss.

"See, we just wrapped up a case for the Bureau tonight. We had to be a married couple," Eames said, holding up her left hand to show him the wedding band that was still on her finger. "The bust was made in Central Park, which was why we're on this end of town."

"But we're off now," I added. "For two days. Then we report to the federal building on Monday."

"So you earned their trust and now you're going to be on the inside. Very nice," he complimented. "And this guy…what's his name? Maas? You trust him?"

"He hasn't given us a reason not to," Eames said with a shrug. "He's been keeping in contact with us. And they're supposedly holding our jobs for us until we can find the Bureau mole."

"And possibly a department one, too," I said. "The only two people who know about this are Moran and Maas."

"That would explain what Wheeler said," Logan commented.

"Which was what?"

"I guess Nichols drops by from time to time to check on her and the baby. She said that he's been pretty upset with what happened to you guys, and by the fact that Ross' killer was set free."

"Well, tracking Hassan may be what helps us find the mole," I told him. "Whoever dropped a dime on Ross had a stake in keeping Hassan free. We need to find out why."

"Do you have any suspects?"

"I've got an idea," Eames said with obvious loathing. Which reminded me of something.

"I'm going to have a chat with him first thing Monday morning," I told her pointedly.

"With who? About what?" Logan asked.

"Why?" she asked me, both of us ignoring his questions.

"You know why," I said. "You think I didn't see what he did?"

"What who did?"

"I'll have a talk with him," she countered. "I can take care of myself."

"I know that you _can_," I agreed. "But Alex…"

"Wait, _Alex_? Guys, come on!" Logan shouted in frustration.

I ignored him a minute longer as I silently argued my case.

That dickhead Beemer had felt her up when he'd put her under arrest because he knew that we couldn't say anything about it.

And I'd kept my mouth shut. _Barely_.

But come Monday, all bets were off.

At the very least, I was going to have him written up.

Or…I could let her do it, I realized. Because yes, she could take care of herself and just because we were now in this…thing…that didn't mean that I was going to start fighting her battles for her.

"You're right," I said at last. "You do it."

She smiled at me, and then she shivered, so I started to take off my jacket, but it was just as wet as she was.

"Take off your jacket, Logan."

But he'd seen her, too, and was already standing to remove his suit jacket.

Like I said, he's a good guy.

I took it from him and then held it out to her, and I was glad to see her put it on without an argument.

I had trouble knowing when chivalrous gestures were a good idea or a bad idea with her, but I figured that she couldn't get mad at me for having good manners.

She settled back against the seat and I slid my hand back over her thigh. A little higher this time than it had been before. She smirked at me briefly and dropped her hand beneath the table, covering mine with her own.

Logan cleared his throat and got our attention.

"So, you two were going to tell me who your suspect is and then you started off on some other conversation that you completely left me out of, and then you called her Alex, which you never do, so…"

"Agent Stahl's partner, Agent Beemer. He's a jerk, but we're not sure if that makes him guilty or not," Eames said. "Anyway, we had to get arrested tonight to avoid being made, and let's just say that he took his time when he was patting me down."

Logan held her gaze for a minute and then gave her a sharp nod and looked over at me.

"Okay, so when are we going to beat the crap out of this guy?"

"You're not," she said, although she was smiling when she said it. "I'm going to report him."

"Alright," Logan conceded. "But if he gives you any more trouble…"

"I'm all over it," I assured him.

"You are, aren't you?" he asked with a grin. "And you called her Alex. This whole couple thing isn't just an act, is it?"

I glanced at Eames, since she was the one who'd denied it when we were out on the sidewalk, but she gave me a nod.

"No, it's not," I admitted. "I mean, it was in the beginning…sort of…but, it's not anymore."

"Moran is going to love that."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Which is why we're keeping it our little secret."

"Okay, well, hey…I think it's great. The department rules are a crock anyway," he said casually. "I mean, who knows each other better than partners, right?"

"Where are you working?" I asked him suddenly since it occurred to me that he was wearing a suit.

"I had an interview today," he said, gesturing to his tie. "I've only been back for a month, so I'm still unemployed as of yet."

"Where was the interview?"

"Nassau County. They love me out there," he said with a wry grin.

"You're going back into police work?"

"I never really left it. I moved to Southport a few weeks after quitting MCS, and I spent a year running their department. And now I'm back here, so…yeah. Police work is my life."

"Let me know if you need a reference," I offered with a smile.

"Yeah, that'll go over well, huh?" he replied. "Okay, so here's the question. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Nothing right now."

"Well, actually not nothing," Eames spoke up. I looked over at her curiously, waiting to see what she was going to say. "How big is your place?"

"You need a place to stay?" he asked in surprise. "Um…yeah, I've got a guest room. I mean, it's not big, and it's not very well furnished, but…it's yours if you need it."

"Just for the weekend," she said, shifting her eyes over to mine and giving me a smile that went straight to my groin. "We need to fumigate our place."

"You've got bugs?"

"Government bugs," I explained without taking my eyes off of Eames. She tightened her hand on mine and then moved it a little higher.

"I hear you," Logan said in understanding. "Yeah, no problem. I'm actually about four blocks from here. You guys ready?"

"We're ready," Eames replied.

"Uh huh," I said. "We are definitely ready."

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

**Bobby POV**

* * *

It had been a stroke of genius for Eames to ask Logan to put us up.

Because, yeah, we could've gotten a hotel.

But then it would be on one of our credit cards.

And we'd be on hotel surveillance video.

By going to Logan's, no one would have a clue as to our whereabouts.

Not Stahl.

Not Maas.

No one.

And there was really no good reason why anyone would even care…why they would come looking for us, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

Because believe me, after the past ten weeks of living under a microscope, the prospect of finally having a night of privacy was making me giddy.

And yeah, okay, some of that stemmed from the idea that I was going to get Eames alone, too.

A lot of it stemmed from that fact, actually.

Because I had a feeling from the way that she was looking at me that my _some day soon_ was going to be tonight.

"So who else have you talked to since you've been back?" Eames asked Logan as the three of us walked the four blocks to his apartment.

"Just Wheeler," he said. "Well, and Deakins. I gave him a call last week. He's actually the one who got me the Nassau interview."

"What about Barek?" I asked him.

"No, why?"

"I don't know. I just thought…you know, that maybe there was something there."

"Yeah, well, I kind of thought that, too, but...I guess not," he said.

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't so I let it go. It seemed like maybe a sore subject for him.

"This is it," he said, nodding toward the lobby of a nice-looking apartment building. He punched in a code and let us inside. "Like I said, there's not a lot of room, but…"

"Is it wired?" Eames asked him.

"No."

"Then it'll be perfect."

He nodded in understanding and we followed him onto the elevator and up to the seventh floor.

"Thanks for the jacket," Eames told him once we were inside. She slipped out of it and then tugged self-consciously at her clothes.

"No problem. Um…let me get you…something. I'm not sure what I have, but it'll at least be dry. Or I can run over to your place and get you guys some clothes if you want."

"No," I replied, although I was touched by his offer. "I don't want anyone to see you and then associate you with us. The less people who know about you the better."

"Okay," he agreed. He left us alone in his living room while he went down a hallway, presumably to his bedroom.

"It doesn't look like he's done a lot of unpacking," I commented quietly, taking in the stacks of boxes along the far wall.

"And he seemed a little touchy when you asked him about Carolyn," she added.

"Uh huh," I remarked as I stepped up behind her.

Her skirt was still clinging to her hips and her legs and I couldn't keep from settling my hands on her hips and pulling her back against me.

"It was a great idea to come here," I whispered. I felt her shiver again, although this time I didn't think it was because she was cold.

I slid my hands around the front of her, enveloping her in my arms as I dipped my head and buried my nose into her hair. She smelled good, like rain and flowers and…I don't know what, but I couldn't get enough of it.

She tilted her head to one side, and I used my nose to move her hair out of the way so that I could kiss her neck.

"I found some…hey, come on guys. Jeez, I leave you alone for a minute and you're acting like a couple of teenagers," Logan muttered as he came back into the room. "Haven't you been living together since April? Aren't you tired of each other yet?"

He just didn't get it.

For us, it had been like ten weeks of foreplay.

And I felt a little bad for him because I was so glad that _they _wouldn't be listening, that I really didn't care that _he'd_ be listening.

"Thanks for the clothes," Eames said to him, slipping out of my embrace and taking the proffered items.

"Well, they'll work for tonight, but if you guys are going to spend the weekend here…I don't know. I mean, I can find something for Goren, but…"

"We'll worry about that tomorrow," she assured him.

"Okay, well the spare room is right there," he said, pointing to the closed door across the hall from the bathroom. "And the bathroom, obviously, so make yourselves at home."

"Thanks," she told him. And then she turned to look at me. "Are you coming?"

She did not have to ask me twice.

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Um…thanks, Logan," I said as I moved past him. "We really appreciate it."

"Sure," he said dismissively. "I'm going to have another beer and watch some TV, if you need anything. Although I'm sure that you won't," he mumbled as he headed for the kitchen.

But I only barely registered his words.

Because Eames was already in the bedroom waiting for me.

I went inside and closed the door behind me.

It didn't have a lock on it, but I couldn't imagine a scenario where Logan would interrupt us.

Not without knocking, anyway.

And even if he did, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Because at the moment, Eames was standing in the middle of the room.

She'd left the light off, but there were no blinds or curtains, and the glow from signs and streetlights outside filtered through the window, backlighting her in a way that made me stop and stare.

And suddenly my urge to rush was gone. Instead I wanted to savor the moment.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," I managed to say, although I was still rooted to the spot.

"I think maybe I have some idea," she argued lightly.

Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse while I stood and watched. She let the garment fall to the floor and there she stood in her tank top and skirt.

The same outfit that had sent me over the edge earlier today.

And even though the skirt hadn't clung to her then like it was doing now, she still looked damn sexy.

Then and now.

She reached for the hem of her shirt, but I was finally spurred into action.

"Wait," I said quietly.

I moved in front of her and used one hand to brush her hair back behind her shoulder and then I trailed my fingers down her arm.

"This is what I wanted to do this afternoon," I told her softly.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely audible, even in the quiet room.

"I wanted to touch you," I murmured.

"Then do it," she encouraged.

"I don't know where to start," I admitted.

"Anywhere you want."

I leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder and then I moved the strap of the tank top out of the way and grazed my lips along her collar bone.

She let out a sigh as I worked my hands just under the hem of her shirt, running my fingers along the waistband of her skirt.

Her skin was every bit as smooth as I'd imagined.

Every bit as soft.

I vowed to myself right then and there that before the night was over, I would touch every inch of her, with my hands and with my lips.

But I wasn't going to be in a hurry.

We had all night. All weekend, in fact.

So for now, I left her shirt on and instead felt my way beneath it. It was more tantalizing this way…feeling the terrain before seeing it first hand.

Apparently over the course of our time together, I'd come to enjoy torturing myself, drawing out the pleasure.

And it _was_ pleasure, there was no doubt about that.

Remembering the feel of her thigh beneath my hand as we'd sat in the bar, I had the sudden need to touch her legs.

I seemed to have developed an obsession with that particular part of her.

Hell, with _every_ part of her.

But still…so I made a quick assessment of the room and saw that the dresser would suit my purposes.

I leaned down and kissed her, gently at first and then increasing in intensity as I backed her up against the dresser.

With one hand, I reached out blindly and swept across the surface, shoving various items onto the floor, and then I grabbed onto her waist and set her on top of it.

My estimation had been dead-on.

The height was perfect.

Without releasing her lips, I moved between her legs and then immediately ran my hands under her skirt, along the outside of her thighs, moving upward until my fingertips brushed the edge of her panties. I slid my hands around to her backside, pulling her closer until she was flush up against me.

I was painfully hard, as I'd been for the past hour, but I'd been ignoring it for the most part.

Until now.

Until I felt the heat of her up against me with only a few of layers of thin fabric between us.

Her hands worked feverishly between us in an effort to rid me of my shirt, but I still had on the jacket and tie, so I was going to have to let her go in order to remove the clothing, but I just didn't want to do that yet.

Instead, I stroked my hands back and forth over her thighs and then slipped my fingers beneath the edge of the silk barrier.

She pulled her mouth away from mine and rested her forehead against my chest as her hands faltered in their movements. She said my name on a low moan as I continued to move my hand over her.

"I don't want to wait," she said breathlessly, once again tugging at my shirt. "Take this off."

"We've got time," I answered, although I was starting to agree with her. She let go of my shirt and with renewed vigor and amazing dexterity, she undid my belt and slacks and let them fall to the floor.

"Yes we do," she agreed. But then she said, "We've got time to do it slowly later."

She had a point.

I reluctantly pulled my hands from beneath her skirt and let her help me get rid of the rest of my clothing until at last I stood before her in absolutely nothing.

I paused for a moment as her eyes moved over me and I had a second of self-consciousness.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" she asked rhetorically as she reached out and touched my chest and then began a slow trail downward.

I closed my eyes and summoned up the last of my self-control as she finally slid just one finger down the length of me.

"I thought we were going to do slow later," I managed to ground out as she repeated the tortuous motion.

"I'm just waiting on you."

And I guess she was, although when I looked at her, she had a smile on her face.

A beautiful, sexy smile that spurred me into action.

I grabbed onto that little tank top that had started this whole chain of events and I eased it over her head.

And I wanted to take the time to look.

I wanted to explore some more and learn everything there was to know about her body.

But like she said, we'd have more time for that.

Right now, we were both reaching the point of desperation.

I left her skirt on because I liked the way it looked, bunched up at the tops of her thighs, and instead I reached beneath it to pull off that last remaining obstacle.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling us close together again, but I hesitated for just a minute.

I moved my hands up along the sides of her face, running my fingers into her hair and then holding on as I kissed her again.

I needed her to know how much this meant to me.

How much _she_ meant to me.

And then it occurred to me that I hadn't told her that I loved her.

Not without yelling it at her anyway.

"I love you," I told her, and as I said the words, I pushed into her at last.

And that first stroke almost put me over the edge.

I had to stop even though I'd barely begun.

I rested my forehead against hers as I bit down on my lip and silently begged whoever was listening to let me last at least ten minutes.

And actually, I did a lot better than ten minutes.

Not that I was keeping track or anything, but I know I lasted long enough.

Of all the times I'd tried to imagine what Eames would look like as I pushed her over the edge, none of my estimations were accurate.

And watching her reach that level of ecstasy was going to be my new favorite pastime.

It has got to be the most beautiful sight there is, and I was lucky enough to see it three times on that first go-round.

So yeah, I'd say I did okay.

My knees felt weak as I leaned against her, but I couldn't wipe the smile from my face.

"When can we do that again?" I asked her.

"You tell me," she replied, and even though I couldn't see her face, I could tell that she was smiling, too. "I'm just still kicking myself in the ass for not jumping you that first night."

"Well, that one night, you did almost grab my…you know. When you were sleeping."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"You…you what?" I asked, standing up straight so that I could look at her. She had a mischievous look on her face, and she gave me a little shrug.

"Well, you know you can't really blame me. You'd wear those gym shorts to bed every night, and you know, they really didn't leave much to the imagination but I wanted some hard proof that you were as…well-endowed…as you appeared to be."

"You were awake?" I said, still in shock at her admission. "And you were getting ready to stick your hand down my pants?"

"No," she said on a laugh. "I'm kidding. I was definitely asleep. You know I'd never take advantage of you like that."

"Well, next time you get that urge…please. Take advantage," I replied.

I was glad that we were able to joke about that now because I knew she'd been mortified at the time.

"I was curious though," she said as she ran her hands down my back and over my butt. "Because I did notice. How could I not?"

"And what's the verdict? Do I pass?"

"And then some," she assured me. "Now take me to bed."

"You need more hard proof?" I asked as I pulled her off the dresser and carried her to the bed.

"You have more?"

"Not just yet," I admitted. "I'll need a few minutes. But in the mean time, I have lots of things that I want to do to you."

"I like the sound of that," she said as she laid her head back on the pillow.

I sat on the edge of the bed, drinking in the sight of her as she stretched out comfortably next to me.

"You're going to like the feel of it even better," I promised.

Our weekend respite came to an end entirely too soon.

And I would be ashamed to admit how much time we spent in Logan's tiny spare bedroom except for the fact that I had way too much fun to feel bad about it.

And really, we deserved it.

It had been a long time coming, and like I said, ten weeks of foreplay was worth at least forty-eight hours of sex.

And making love.

Because we definitely did both with equal enthusiasm.

I caught a lot of hell from Logan, who by noon on Saturday had located his IPOD so that he could spend the rest of his weekend listening to classic rock instead of Eames calling to God.

Or at least that's what he said.

Personally, I think she said my name a whole lot more than His, but whatever…

Logan was a good sport about it, and I definitely owed him.

On Sunday night, it was time to go back to reality.

"I wonder how many messages we've missed from Maas," Eames pondered after we left Logan's apartment.

"And Stahl," I added. "Although we told them both that we'd be gone until Monday."

"I'm almost afraid to go into the apartment. What if they came in and added video feed or something? I mean, do you think they panicked when they couldn't find us?"

"I don't know. But if they did, then maybe you'll get your wish."

"I already got it," she quipped as she squeezed my hand.

"I mean about being on Youtube," I teased.

"Uh uh," she said. "No. Call your friend Jimmy and have him meet us over there. If they stuck cameras in there, I want to know about it."

So I stopped at a payphone and gave Jimmy a call. He agreed to come over, so then I pulled out my cell phone and called him again to request another cable service call.

And who knew if they were monitoring my cell phone, but I guess that was the point. _Who knew?_

"On Sunday night?" Jimmy asked, playing the part. "It's gonna cost you."

"That's fine," I agreed. "Just come over. There's something wrong with the picture again."

An hour later, we met Jimmy in the lobby of my building and the three of us went upstairs.

Twenty minutes after that, we had the verdict.

We now had three cameras in the apartment, in addition to four new bugs.

TBC...


	11. Chapter 11

**Alex POV**

* * *

My first reaction was to go back to Logan's.

Because the idea of spending the night while live on candid camera was a little too much for me.

What was the point?

What did they think we were going to do?

And who had done this?

I mean, the Bureau had been listening for more than two months, and supposedly now we'd earned their trust, so why would they suddenly increase the level of surveillance?

Had we thrown up a red flag when we'd disappeared for the weekend?

Or was the Bureau even behind it?

Maybe it was someone else.

Which brought about even more questions…who?

The NYPD?

No one except Moran and Maas even knew we were working in conjunction with the department.

Anyone who was dirty that was working for them would surely not consider us a threat. They would just be glad that we were gone.

And Maas wouldn't want to record us. For what purpose? To catch us in our relationship so that he could then use it as leverage when we came back?

Did he even _know_ we had a relationship? Although, he had made mention that day, back in Moran's office, that he was aware that I had strong personal feelings for Bobby, but still…it made no sense that he would want to record us.

Besides, he knew that the relationship was our cover, so we would have valid reason for anything that he might catch on tape.

Which left us with…Marcovic? Was he suspicious that we had set him up so he'd sent his people over to check up on us? To what end? Just to get payback for ruining his enterprise?

That thought was a little scary because I had no doubt that he'd killed people for less.

But as far as he knew, we'd been arrested right along with him, so I found it hard to believe that in such a short period of time, he'd figured us out.

Aside from that, guys like him didn't usually pussyfoot around.

If he suspected us, he'd just send someone to kill us.

We discussed the possibilities at length without saying a word and in the end, we decided to stay put.

We held an innocuous conversation in the kitchen about how nice it had been to spend the weekend visiting friends in Jersey.

And then we decided to go to bed.

"I think I'm going to take a shower first," Bobby announced as we headed down the hall.

And I'm sure that it would be an interesting sociological experiment for some eager PhD to learn of how I became instantly turned on by his statement.

How, after only ten weeks, I equated the bathroom to our alone time, and my arousal was like a Pavlovian response.

His bathroom had become my favorite room in the apartment.

"Do you need any help?" I offered.

Even after the incredible weekend we'd spent at Logan's, I was still ready for more. Although I wasn't sure if he could possibly be up to the task, but at the very least, I'd enjoy a few minutes of unsupervised time with him, especially since once we got into bed, we'd be on tape.

"I was hoping you'd ask that," he replied with a smile. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and gestured for me to go in ahead of him.

He closed the door while I turned on the water, grateful that whoever had added the new surveillance devices still had the decency to avoid the bathroom.

The camera in the bedroom was bad enough.

Which sent my mind down that path again…who would do that?

What could possibly happen in our bedroom that would be of any interest to anyone?

"Don't think about it any more tonight," Bobby said as he wrapped his arms around me. "In fact, tonight I don't want you to think about anything at all."

"It's hard to just turn it off," I argued lightly, although as his hands moved underneath my shirt I was beginning to think that it wouldn't be so difficult after all.

"I've got an idea about how to make it happen," he stated confidently.

And it was a damn good idea.

For the next however long, I didn't think about a thing except for how good he was making me feel.

And later, we left the bathroom and got into bed, both of us satiated.

I shoved the idea of the camera out of my head as I quickly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, we were at the federal building bright and early. I didn't want to wait for nine o'clock since I had a stop to make before meeting up with Stahl.

I was going to complain about Beemer.

I left Bobby in the fourth floor break room while I went up one flight of stairs to talk to SAC Casteel.

"What can I do for you, Agent Eames?" he asked when I entered his office. I'd planned out what I was going to say, but his greeting threw me.

"Agent?" I questioned.

"Aren't you?" he asked me, obviously equally confused. "You do work for us now, don't you?"

"Yes," I replied. "I just…I was told that we didn't have agent status."

"Oh," he said with a nod. "They gave you that whole asset bit, didn't they?"

"Yes sir."

"That's just their way of messing with newbies," he said with a shake of his head. "You know, to establish the hierarchy. No, you're both agents. We'll need to schedule for you both to do your time at Quantico, but in deference to your extended amount of time served with the NYPD, your status is not dependant upon completion of the program. You'll need it, of course, but it's not a top priority."

"Oh, okay," I said blandly as my mind processed his words.

So Stahl and Beemer had been exerting a power play, huh?

"So, getting back on task here, what can I do for you, Agent Eames?" he asked again, and now he was smiling.

Which for some reason, made me suspicious.

I wasn't used to having a boss who was so happy and congenial.

It made me wary.

"Actually, I wanted to make a complaint against Agent Beemer," I told him, and the smile quickly went away.

I explained to him what had happened during the bust on Friday.

"I don't usually like to rat out colleagues, but his behavior was grounds for a law suit," I concluded.

"A law suit? Now, let's not get carried away."

"I'm not saying that I'm going to sue him or the Bureau. But I don't know if he has some kind of dislike for me, or if that's his usual technique," I explained. "And if it is, then maybe he's the one who needs to go to Quantico."

"Point taken, Agent," Casteel told me. "I'll speak with Agent Beemer about the issue and make sure that it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you."

I left Casteel's office and went back down stairs to find Bobby. He had fixed us each a cup of coffee and was glancing over the Times.

"How'd it go?" he asked when he saw me.

"Fine. He'll get a slap on the wrist, maybe."

"He needs to get more than that," Bobby argued. "If I see him do something like that again…"

"If he tries it again, he's going to be walking with a permanent limp," I assured him. "There's no need for you to be the over-protective boyfriend."

"I guess that I can live without being over-protective," he said, as he got up from the table. Then he leaned close to me and added, "As long as I still get to be the boyfriend."

I pulled away from him as he attempted to close the distance between us.

"You are," I said. "But we're also at work."

"Where they know we're a couple," he reminded me with a grin. "We're in the break room. It's not even nine yet."

He had a point. And we were alone.

So I let him kiss me.

Prior to leaving the department, I'd had no idea how affectionate he was.

He liked to touch and be touched, and I don't just mean in the sexual sense.

It was a pleasant discovery, and I had a feeling that it was going to get me into trouble from time to time.

Because a touch from him sent my mind into flashbacks from our weekend. And there were plenty of memories to draw from over that forty-eight hour span.

He had considerable stamina and very few inhibitions, which made for an intoxicating combination.

But we showed restraint this morning and kept the kiss short and mostly innocent, and then we left the break room and headed for the conference room where we were supposed to meet Stahl.

No one was there yet, so we took a seat and sipped on our coffee while we waited.

"Do you think that she'll admit to knowing about the additional surveillance?" I wondered out loud.

"If she does know."

"Who do you think it is?"

"I think it's them," he said after a minute. "But it might not be _her_. It might be whoever the mole is. Maybe he knew that the Bureau would be pulling their bugs, so the mole wanted to add some of his own."

I nodded thoughtfully at his theory.

It made sense.

"Goren. Eames," Stahl said as she entered the room. "You're early."

"Yes we are," I agreed. "And don't you mean Agents Goren and Eames?"

I'd forgotten to fill Bobby in on that tidbit, so while Stahl had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, I turned away from her and told him about that part of my conversation with Casteel.

"You guys do that to everybody, or just us?" he asked her when I'd finished.

"We were going to tell you today. It's not like it made any difference while you were on that last case," she said dismissively.

"Well, what about the added surveillance?" I asked her. "Is that for everyone, too? Or are we that interesting?"

"What added surveillance?"

We didn't want her to know that we knew about the original bugs. Supposedly, they'd only just been keeping an eye on our place.

But in order to get to the bottom of this, we might have to admit to that knowledge. And we were going to let her know that we'd found a camera.

"There's a camera in our living room," Bobby stated. "Did you think that we wouldn't notice the new book added to my collection?"

The camera had been infused into the spine of the book and made to look like part of the design. It was really fairly high tech, and I was grateful to Jimmy, who was resourceful with his homemade device that detected any equipment that emitted an electronic signal.

Although, Bobby was right. He would've spotted the different book on his shelf.

But the other two cameras weren't quite as obvious and I shuddered to think about what type of footage they might've gotten if we hadn't learned of their existence.

"There's a camera in your apartment?" she asked. And I thought that maybe she was truthful in her surprised response.

"You're going to say that you didn't know?"

"No," she answered. "I promise. We didn't do this."

"Then who did?"

"I don't know."

I caught Bobby's eye and he gave me a nod.

"Were you still listening to us?" I asked her. "Over the weekend?"

"You weren't home over the weekend. Which, by the way, I need to know where you were."

"We were off duty. It's none of your damn business where we were," I retorted, annoyed that she was going to try to shift the focus of the conversation.

"You're Bureau employees," she argued. "That's not a nine to five job."

"So where were you this weekend?" I asked her. "What did you do?"

"I worked."

"Listening to us?" Bobby questioned. "Waiting for us to come home?"

"No," she denied. And then she sighed and looked at the floor for a minute before re-establishing eye contact. "No, but yes, they have been recording everything. Give me a few minutes, and I'll skim the tapes."

She started for the door, but I called out to her.

"What did you guys think you were going to hear? Why are you recording us?"

"We had to be sure that we could trust you."

"Why? What do you have to hide?"

"Nothing. It's SOP for transferred agents, ones who didn't go through Quantico," she insisted. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"She's lying," I said once she was gone.

"Uh huh," Bobby agreed. "But I don't think she's lying about the camera. I don't think she knew about it."

"Beemer?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shake of his head.

We tossed about ideas for several minutes, discussing potential suspects until we were interrupted.

"Agent Eames?"

I looked up to see a young woman sticking her head in the door.

"Yes," I replied.

"HR needs you to come in to get a photo for your ID. It's on the second floor."

"Right now?"

"That's what I was told, yes ma'am."

"Me, too?" Bobby asked her.

"Um…no sir. Just Agent Eames."

I looked at Bobby and shrugged and then got up from the table.

"It shouldn't take but a minute," I told him. "I'll be right back."

But before I could leave, Stahl returned, so I waited to hear what she had to say.

"There's nothing there," she said.

"You went through the whole weekend? Because we weren't there until last night, so any sound you heard before then would be suspect."

"There's nothing at all. The tapes have been erased."

"Erased?" I asked sharply. "So it _was_ one of you."

"One of us?"

"How else do you explain it? I'm sure there's nothing else missing from the last ten weeks worth of tapes, is there? And who else would even know the tapes existed except a Bureau employee?"

"Well, you two know."

"So you think we bugged ourselves? That's ridiculous. And not only that, but how would we manage to erase the tapes?"

"How did you know they were there in the first place?" she countered.

"Where was Agent Beemer this weekend," I asked her instead of answering her question.

"You think that he's behind this?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"No, of course not.

"You know that I filed a complaint against him this morning, right?"

"For this? But you have know idea whether he did it or not!"

"Not for this," Bobby corrected. "For sexual assault."

"Are you talking about what happened when he arrested you?"

"Yes," I told her. "And since that was your first assumption, I can only guess that it doesn't come as much of a surprise to you."

"He's just overly cautious," she said. "He got burned once when he missed a needle on a drug addict. Surely you know that he didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it. He just wanted to make sure I didn't have a needle," I replied smartly. "We're on the same team. He didn't really need to pat me down!"

"He had to make it look good. Alex, I'm telling you, he's a good agent. And a good guy."

"So you're sure that he's not the one behind the camera," Bobby said.

"I'm sure."

"Okay, then start us a suspect list. Who is it if it's not him?" I asked.

"Agent Eames."

It was the young secretary again.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, but HR is waiting for you."

"I've been a damn asset for ten weeks and suddenly they can't wait five minutes to make me an agent?" I grumbled. Then I added, "Fine. I'm going."

"HR?" Stahl asked.

"I have to get my picture taken," I explained in annoyance. "Maybe I should tell them to just pull a still from the footage in my apartment."

I said goodbye to Bobby with a pointed look and a small nod, and then I headed for the stairwell.

And I was slightly distracted.

Which is probably how he got the drop on me.

I was in between the third and second floors when I suddenly found myself face first against the brick wall.

"You fucking reported me? To Casteel?"

It was Beemer, of course, and he had me flattened against the wall in a classic arrest position.

Or maybe not so classic, because no cop I knew would ever get quite so close to a suspect.

He held my wrists in his hands, and he pushed his body into mine, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"Yes, I did," I managed to say. "And it looks like you're writing your own suspension order right now."

"He put a warning _in my file_," he told me, and while he talked, he scraped my hands along the wall, pulling them together over my head.

He was a lot stronger than he looked, and even though I wasn't really fighting him just yet, I was a little concerned.

I was waiting for the right moment to go at him, but the way he kept himself draped over me was making it hard for me to think of a viable option.

I had no room to maneuver.

"And you know that's bullshit. Because believe me, if I wanted to feel you up, I would've done it," he said.

And by this point, he had my hands together, and he managed to grab onto both of my wrists with one hand, freeing up his other hand which he promptly ran down my side.

I was so close against the wall that it kept him from reaching around to the front of me, but it didn't keep him from shifting himself slightly so that he could move his hand over my ass.

I was going to have to kill him.

He pulled his hand away and moved his body against me again, putting his mouth close to my ear.

"I wanted to see if you had a weapon," he said. "Because you know that you weren't supposed to. You were directed to go in unarmed, because your fellow agents had your back. But I felt your little secret, didn't I? You had one strapped to your thigh. So tell me…why are you working for us if you don't trust us?"

"I've only ever trusted a couple of people to watch my back," I ground out. "And none of them ever pinned me up against a wall. So, you're not really very trustworthy, are you? It looks like my gut was right."

And as I said the words, I tugged slightly with my left hand in a lame attempt to free myself.

And he fell for it. The oldest trick in the book. They really did need to send this guy back to Quantico.

He adjusted his grip to better hold onto my left hand, and that was when I jerked hard with my right hand.

It slipped loose from his grip, and I used the downward momentum to elbow him in the gut.

He immediately let go of my other hand as he took a step back, so I turned around quickly.

He was slightly hunched over trying to catch his breath, and I really, _really_ wanted to hit him, but I didn't.

I didn't want to leave a mark.

So instead, I grabbed his shoulders, holding him in place as I kicked him in the groin as hard as I could.

He immediately went down to the floor.

"The next time you touch me, it'll be the very last thing you do," I warned. "Do you understand me?"

"I got it," he groaned.

I stepped over him so that I could continue down the stairs, and he called out to me.

"I'm watching you, Eames. You're up to something."

"Right back at you, Beemer."

TBC...


	12. Chapter 12

**Bobby POV**

* * *

I knew something was up as soon as Eames got to the conference room.

For starters, Beemer had come in a minute before and he'd been walking funny.

That alone had me curious, but not necessarily suspicious.

But then she'd come in and I could tell that she was mad as hell. After a quick visual inspection, I saw that she had chafed skin on the underneath side of her wrists.

She caught me looking, and she gave me a slight shake of her head.

_Not now_.

But I put two and two together.

She'd specifically said that if he touched her again, he'd be walking with a limp.

And he'd come into the room looking like he'd spent three days on a horse.

I looked at Beemer, who was sitting at the far end of the table and avoiding eye contact.

_That son of a bitch_.

"Did you get your photo taken care of?" Stahl asked Eames, oblivious to the undercurrent in the room.

"I did, although they were surprised to see me," she replied pointedly. "Apparently I wasn't expected to show up until after the nine o'clock meeting. Which, by the way Bobby, is when they want you to come by."

I nodded, but continued to look at Beemer.

Had he set her up to get her away from me?

Eames came around and sat down next to me. She didn't say anything, but she brushed her arm against mine as she reached for the file on the table, and I knew that was intentional.

That was as comforting a touch as I was going to get at the moment.

"Okay, well let's get down to it then," Stahl said as the rest of the task force came into the room.

These were the agents who had been working on the Marcovic case.

I'd seen them all, but now was the opportunity to get a better read on them, so I forced my ire at Beemer from my mind, although I would absolutely come back to it later.

We spent the next forty-five minutes going over the results of the sting.

There had been seven arrests made and three more were pending. Stahl felt confident that the key players had been brought down, and whoever remained free were too insignificant to matter.

While Stahl and Beemer talked, I watched the faces of the others.

Five men and two women made up the task force, including Stahl and Beemer.

The other woman was Paige McHale, a forty-something year old agent with a husband and four kids. She seemed to be a solid agent, although she also appeared somewhat indifferent. Maybe she'd just been hardened by twenty years in the Bureau, I don't know.

I couldn't picture her being in bed with the likes of Hassan. But I couldn't necessarily rule her out, either.

Beemer was still at the top of Eames' suspect list, but I had my doubts. He was being too obvious about it. His blatant like - or dislike, it was hard to tell which - for Eames was a dead giveaway. Surely if he had something to hide, he would've learned by now to play nice with others.

Wouldn't he? Or was that part of his game?

Two of the other men were older and for some reason, for me that seemed to lessen their plausibility factor.

Clarence Bourque and Hugh Workman.

Each nearing retirement, each divorced, and each slightly soft. I didn't think that either of them had the guts required to try to pull one over on the Bureau.

The other two I was less sure about.

Joey Banta and Lucien Rivas.

Banta couldn't be long out of the academy. He was no more than thirty and appeared ambitious, but he also seemed to have a bit of a problem with authority.

He hadn't exhibited any hostility toward me or Eames but he liked to question Stahl's directives. And true, she wasn't his boss, but she was in charge of this particular task force.

He was single and proud of his success picking up women. I hadn't talked to him except on a few occasions and yet I'd already heard several of his stories, as though I should be impressed by his prowess.

Which led me to believe that the truth was probably more the opposite. He probably hadn't been laid in a long time.

Not that I was going to judge him for that.

Until last Friday night, it had been a long damn time for me, too.

But the difference was that I didn't talk about it. The presence of, or lack of, sex in my personal life was a private matter as far as i was concerned.

But still…the fact that he was a self-important, exaggerating blowhard didn't make him a traitor.

It didn't mean that he'd given Ross up to Hassan.

But it didn't mean that he _didn't_, either. I was going to dig a little deeper into his file.

Rivas was almost the opposite of Banta, and yet had me just as suspicious. He was quiet and followed orders without fail.

But did he do that so as not to call attention to himself?

He was married and had a small child at home.

Again, that could mean one of two things.

Either he was more inclined to keep his nose clean or he was an easier target for a guy like Hassan. Rivas could be manipulated because his family could be used as leverage.

"So, are there any questions?" Stahl was saying, and I realized then that I'd missed at least the last ten minutes of the discussion.

"No," Banta said, getting up from the table. "So this assignment is over, right? I can move on to the next case?"

Translate: _I can get out from under your thumb._

"For now," Stahl said carefully.

She was watching him, too, I could tell, but for the purpose of what?

Did she suspect a mole as well?

Or did she just not like him?

"It's been real, people," Banta said as he left the room.

"Dickhead," McHale muttered. Eames flashed me a smirk as she got up from her chair.

"You said that we'd be working with another agent on one of their cases?" she asked Stahl.

"Well, um…not exactly," she hedged. "Goren, you head on down to HR and then come back here when you're done. We don't have desks for you two yet, but um..."

She trailed off as the other agents filtered out of the room. I gave Beemer my best glare as he shuffled slowly to the door, but he never took his eyes from the floor.

"I'll meet you up on six," he said to Stahl as he went by.

She nodded at him, but kept her mouth shut as she watched Rivas, who was the last one to leave, and then she turned back to us.

"I'll have the agent meet you here," she said firmly.

"Why all the cloak and dagger?" I asked her.

"There's been some moaning about you two getting special treatment. And this case that we want you on…it's pretty high profile."

"Which means everyone wants in on it, right?" Eames said knowingly.

"You got it," Stahl agreed. "Goren, I understand that you've got some experience in profiling, is that right?"

"That's right."

"Good. You'll come in handy on this one."

"And you want me to…what? Get the coffee?" Eames asked her.

"No," Stahl said slowly, holding her gaze but not explaining her seriousness. "But you'll be useful, too. Just wait and let the agent brief you, okay?"

She left us alone in the conference room.

"What the hell was all that about?" Eames asked me.

"First things first," I said as I grabbed her by the hand. I held up her wrist so that I could look more closely at the abrasions. "What the hell is _this _about?"

"Beemer got wind of my complaint," she explained. "He caught up with me in the stairwell.

"And he did what?" I asked, and now my anger was coming back. There was only one scenario I could think of that would leave her with marks like that.

"He tried to assert his authority," she replied vaguely. "But you saw him limping, right?"

"I did," I agreed hesitantly. "You're not going to tell me more than that?"

"Come on," she said, tipping her head towards the door. "I'll go with you down to HR. I'll tell you about it on the way."

She was quiet as we went through the bullpen and into the stairwell. As soon as the door closed behind us and we were alone, I touched her on the arm.

She stopped and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath.

"I let down my guard," she admitted. "I didn't think about getting jumped in the damn federal building."

"He ambushed you?"

"Yes. He pushed me against the wall and held me there while he explained why he'd checked me so closely. He said it's a trust thing. He wanted to make sure that I wasn't packing, and since I was, now he's questioning why I don't trust the Bureau."

I ignored my rage as I dealt with the professional aspect.

"What did you tell him?"

"That it takes longer than ten weeks to earn that kind of trust. And the fact that he jumped me in the stairwell proved my point."

"Okay," I said with a slow nod. I held her hand up again and ran my finger over the abraded skin. "And then what?"

"Then I elbowed him in the gut and kicked him in the balls."

I wanted to go find him and beat him to a pulp, but I just couldn't do it.

Not right now, anyway.

I'd said that I'd let her handle it, and she did.

But I could tell that she was thrown.

"Are you okay?"

"It's just…I shouldn't have let him get that close. There's no excuse."

"We have to remember that we don't know who the enemy is," I said softly.

"I know," she agreed. "I won't let it happen again."

"Oh, it's not going to happen again. Not from Beemer," I assured her.

She didn't ask questions, and I didn't elaborate. Instead, we went down to HR and took care of procuring our FBI identification.

"Oh, Agent Eames," the woman behind the desk said cheerfully. "I have your ID ready. And yours will be ready in a minute, too, Agent Goren. See, it normally only takes a few minutes, but since we weren't expecting you…"

"That's fine," Alex replied. She took the leather bound ID from the woman and started to turn away, but then stopped. "So, did you call up to the secretary and she just got the time wrong?"

"No. Agent Stahl promised to send you after your meeting. I didn't call anyone."

"Okay. Thank you."

We left HR a few minutes later and went back up the stairs.

"So Beemer called the secretary. He set up the meeting in the stairwell," I commented. "He made a point to tell her that they only wanted you so that you'd be alone."

"Uh huh," she agreed thoughtfully, and then she shifted gears. "So I saw you watching everyone in that meeting this morning. Who are you thinking?"

"You first," I said. We were back up to the fourth floor by now, but we lingered in the stairwell to finish our conversation.

And see, despite what people might think, I always love to hear Eames' assessment of people.

She comes at them from a different angle than me and often times she picks up on things that I miss.

I might have the reputation for being the smart one, but I've got nothing on her.

And I resented the implication that Stahl had made, about the idea that I would be the one to come in handy on the next case.

Although, she said that they had something else in mind for Eames, and suddenly that idea made me nervous.

What had she meant by that?

"Rivas," she said. "He'd be an easy target and he's trying to stay under the radar."

"What do you think of Banta?" I encouraged.

"I can't decide. It's possible that his obnoxious act is reverse psychology. We'd think that surely he'd be more agreeable if he had something to hide. But it's like he's hiding in plain sight."

I nodded my head and flashed her a smile.

"And for some reason," she added. "He wants people to think he's a stud with the ladies, but I'm betting that he couldn't get laid if he crawled up a chicken's ass."

"It's like you're reading my mind," I said, chuckling at her conclusion. "What else am I thinking?"

I waggled my eyebrows at her and let my eyes track over her from head to toe and she started laughing.

"I'll tell you what _I'm_ thinking. Either we're going back to Logan's tonight, or we need to start stocking your bathroom with provisions."

"What?" I questioned innocently. "You like spending time in my bathroom?"

"I just like spending time with you," she replied in a suggestive tone.

Then she grabbed a hold of my tie and pulled me down for a kiss that I felt in my toes, amongst other places.

"You keep doing that and we'll add the Bureau stairwell to our repertoire," I said when she finally released me.

"I wonder if they have cameras in here?" she mused.

"You know, that's a very good question," I replied seriously, and she was following my line of thought.

"Maybe we should find out," she said. "Although, we don't want Beemer to get fired. If he's our man, we need him here."

I nodded, considering what our next course of action should be, and then the door suddenly opened behind us.

"Oh, hey, I was just coming down to get you two," Agent Stahl said. "Come on, she's waiting."

So we followed Stahl back through the bullpen to the same conference room.

"Agents Goren and Eames, this is Agent Lacey. She'll be your ASAC for the next case, and then when you're finished, you'll move back under my command, okay?"

And with that simple introduction, she'd established the fact that she apparently owned us and was merely loaning us out to Agent Lacey.

I didn't like the power play move, but it didn't seem to bother Lacey. In fact, she just waved her off and then gestured for me and Eames to sit down. Stahl left the room, and the briefing began.

Five minutes into it, I realized why Stahl had been reticent to elaborate on why we'd been requested for this specific case.

Apparently there was a serial rapist who was targeting women as they left either the Manhattan or the Chelsea Piers health clubs.

All of the victims were thirty-something, petite, blonde women. And maybe Eames was a couple of years older than the average victim, but she didn't look it.

Which is why Lacey wanted to use her as bait.

TBC...


	13. Chapter 13

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Eames and I worked the rapist case for three weeks.

And yes, I'd initially balked at the idea of using Eames to lure the guy, but I had to get over it.

That was what we were doing here.

That was our specialty. Undercover assignments.

And I couldn't put on the brakes just because this one only involved her.

"This is working out great. I was thinking that I needed to get into better shape anyway," she'd quipped to me after the first three days.

Dangling her in front of a rapist was not exactly my idea of things working out great, but trust me, I watched her like a hawk.

She spent more than four hours each day working the tread mill and other various machines, splitting time between the two targeted health clubs.

She made a point of getting friendly with other women who fit the description, often times walking out with them so that the team could keep an eye on them, too.

And each night, when we'd get back to the apartment, she'd collapse on the bed and I'd massage her legs and feet for her.

"Where were you when I was working Vice and walking eight hours in stilettos?" she moaned as I worked out the knots.

I didn't ask if Joe had ever rubbed her feet for her back then. I had a feeling maybe not.

So after twenty-three days of waiting on our guy to make his move, he finally did.

And we caught him, and it was due to Eames' ability to spot other potential victims, because the guy didn't come after her. He came after another woman, but she'd walked out with Eames, so the team was watching.

He was submissive during the arrest and it almost felt anti-climactic considering the amount of time we'd put into the investigation, but it was still a relief to get the man off the streets.

So it was a Thursday in early July when we finished up with Lacey, and we got word from Stahl that we didn't need to report back to work until Monday morning.

"I'm going to have to keep working out now," Eames mused as we drove through the Holland Tunnel. "Four hours a day, every day for three weeks…"

We'd driven aimlessly around the city for half an hour to make sure that we were clean before going to meet with Maas, but I hadn't seen anyone suspicious.

I felt pretty confident that everyone had gotten bored keeping an eye on us.

"I'll help keep you in shape," I promised as I reached over to run my hand over her hair.

"Four hours a day?" she teased questioningly.

"Yeah, maybe not," I admitted with a smile.

We'd been living with the video cameras in the apartment for the past three weeks.

We had met with Maas that first day and let him know about them, but he'd suggested that we leave them in place for awhile.

"It's probably the guy we're looking for," he'd suggested. "He knew that the Bureau was getting ready to downgrade their surveillance, but he needed to keep watching. He needed to know what you two know. By recording you, he thinks he'll get the heads-up when you figure him out, and maybe it'll give him enough time to cut and run."

"So we're supposed to just pretend they're not there?" Eames had asked in irritation.

"They've been listening to you for almost three months," he'd reasoned. "What will it hurt for them to have the added visual?"

"You're serious?"

"I'm just saying," he'd replied with a shrug. "Play up to it. Use it to your advantage. You can even walk him down the wrong path from time to time, let him think that you're looking at someone you're not. It'll give him a false sense of security."

But I knew what Eames was thinking.

There was a camera in the _bedroom_.

One night had been bad enough, but every night?

And for how long?

Of course, we couldn't tell Maas that.

Because as far as he knew, our relationship was for show.

Oh, he knew that we cared about each other. But I don't think he guessed exactly how much.

So I'd caught Eames' eye and conveyed the message.

_We'll get through it_.

And now, a little more than three weeks later, we were no closer to finding our guy.

But Maas had been working on getting more detailed information on the agents from the task force, so I was hopeful that since he'd been the one to call this meeting, that maybe he had something.

And he'd actually been attempting to get together with us for two weeks now, but the case had kept us too busy.

We went into a bar next to the Newport Centre Mall and found a booth near the back.

"It's been almost four months," Eames commented to me as she looked over the menu.

Maas wasn't here yet, but that was usually how it worked.

He was somewhere nearby and he'd watched us come in. Now he would wait to make sure that we hadn't been followed.

He was especially cautious about these meetings and I appreciated that because if we got made then the past four months would be for nothing.

Well, not entirely nothing.

I couldn't discount the fact that now Eames and I were together.

That alone was monumental, but I wasn't going to stop there.

I wanted the person who'd sold out Ross, too.

"I'll be curious to see what he found on Beemer," I said.

We were sitting on the same side of the booth so that the opposite side was free for Maas.

And even though we had to be on our best behavior in front of him, it didn't keep me from pressing my leg up against hers.

I mean, the booth was small, right?

And I'm a big guy.

And really, after four months of posing as a couple they surely had to expect that the mannerisms would carry over, even when we weren't pretending.

"Me, too," she agreed vehemently. "Is it wrong that I hope it's him? I mean, that guy is such a jerk. I would love nothing more than to cut him off at the knees."

"Settle down, honey," I said softly as I nudged her with my shoulder. "He's going down either way."

Because Maas had been so ticked off to hear about what had happened that day in the stairwell, that he'd taken pictures of her wrists. _And_ he'd taken her statement. He said that after our investigation was complete, he was going to file formal charges against him for assault.

I knew there was a reason why I liked the man.

After several minutes, the waitress came by to take our order and I was starting to wonder if maybe we had been followed. It didn't usually take Maas this long to show up.

"Goren."

I looked up in surprise to see Moran sitting down across from us.

"Eames," he added with a nod.

"What's going on?" I asked quickly. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. I just volunteered to take the meeting. I wanted to hear first hand how things are going."

Eames and I glanced at each other and I found myself easing away from her slightly.

It was one thing to push the envelope in front of Maas, but Moran? He held the fate of our return to the department in his hands.

And I wasn't going to screw anything up for Eames.

She'd risked everything for me.

"This was actually Maas' meeting," Eames told him. "He was looking into a few agents that were on the task force."

"I brought the information," he said with a nod, although he made no move to produce anything. "But first I wanted to check on you two. It's been four months. And I understand that you've been under nearly constant surveillance. That has to be tough."

I was stunned speechless.

Moran was concerned for our well-being?

That surprised me, and more than just a little.

I mean, despite my previous misgivings, I wanted to believe that he was a decent enough guy.

He and I had butted heads on more than one occasion but for the most part, I felt that he was honest and hard-working.

After that undercover I'd done a few years back, he'd stuck to his word. He'd given me back my badge, even though I'd suspected at the time that he'd wished for a different outcome.

And I'd always thought that he was a real stickler for the rules, but considering our current situation, I guess that maybe he was more concerned about doing the right thing than following the book.

"We're fine," Eames replied vaguely. I felt her leg tense against mine and I realized that we were probably still sitting too close.

"Yes sir," I said. "Fine."

"Because if you're not…if this is too much…"

He trailed off for a second, and then he looked pointedly at Eames.

"We can pull you out," he continued. "Goren's in. There's no reason why he can't work it alone if you're not comfortable with the…current state of affairs."

So that was it. Moran was worried about her virtue.

Maas must have told him about the excessive surveillance.

"I'm not quitting this case," she told him firmly. "We've made the best of our situation."

"Are you sure?" he asked her, now ignoring me altogether.

And maybe I should've been offended by this whole line of questioning, but I wasn't.

Actually, it felt good to see that he wanted to protect her.

And it made me hopeful that we would, in fact, be welcomed back to the NYPD once this was over.

I mean, that had been the idea, but obviously there was nothing in writing.

We only had his word.

At Eames insistence to stay on the case, Moran finally looked back to me.

"Surely it's difficult to maintain your boundaries under that type of scrutiny," he said as he eyeballed me.

"We're fine," Eames said again. "I appreciate your concern, Chief, but really, the whole assignment is going well."

"Eames just brought down a serial rapist," I told him proudly.

"And we broke up a baby-brokering operation," she added.

"Well, let's not lose sight of the goal," he said.

"Of course not," I agreed. "We have reason to believe that our guy is one of the seven that Maas was looking into for us. Those seven were involved in the task force on the Hassan case. And they all would've known about Ross' status as an undercover. Any one of them could've blown the whistle to Hassan, but what we're hoping to find is some kind of money trail."

"Have you found anything to suggest who from the department might be involved?"

"No, but I'm curious," Eames said. "Did anyone ever question Goren's firing? Or my quitting?"

"There was some initial grumbling," he admitted. "But since then, the only person I've heard from is Nichols. You don't think it's him, do you? I mean, a large part of his complaints was that we let Hassan go. He wouldn't care about that if he was working with him, would he? Unless maybe that was just for show."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Nichols isn't dirty. But the fact that no one asked, that's a good thing. That means that no one on that end is suspicious."

"Maas said that you wanted the phone records for every extension at 1PP," Moran said questioningly. "For the entire month surrounding Ross' murder. Do you have any idea of the amount of paper it would take to print out something like that?"

"I'm guessing quite a bit," I agreed. "But someone there made contact with someone at the Bureau."

"Were you able to get them?" Eames asked as she skeptically glanced over Moran.

He hadn't brought anything with him. No briefcase or bag, and he wasn't wearing a jacket.

This was going to end up being a wasted meeting.

"I did," he said.

To my surprise, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a data stick.

"Everything you requested is on there," he said. "The financials on the agents and the phone records."

He hesitated for a minute as he looked cautiously around the room. I really hoped that we hadn't been followed because he wasn't very good at attempting to blend.

He may as well have been wearing his full dress uniform considering how much his mannerisms screamed cop.

He finally slid the data stick across the table to me.

"Are you going to be able to work on this while you're under surveillance? Or do you want me to see about finding you a clean place to work?"

"We've considered doing a sweep on Eames' place and maybe spending some time over there," I told him. "But to be honest, the Bureau keeps pretty close tabs on us. If we're not home when they think we should be, it seems to raise a flag."

"Why? What business is it of theirs what agents do on their own time?"

_Very good question, Chief._

I wondered if he caught the irony of that, considering the department rule against fraternization.

But I didn't bring it up. I wanted to stay on his good side.

"The party line is that it's for our own safety. As undercover agents, we are at a greater risk than most," Eames explained. "But in answer to your question, yes, we'll be fine to work on it at home. We've learned where the blind spots are."

Yes, we had.

In addition to the bathroom, there was also a short section of hallway and a corner in both the dining room and the bedroom.

"Very well then," Moran said as he got up from the table. "Keep up the good work and be careful, okay?"

"Yes sir," I replied.

"And Eames…if you change your mind, you let me know."

"Of course," she said. "But I won't."

He left us alone as the waitress brought our food.

"He is really worried about you," I commented once we were alone.

"Do you think he knows?"

"That we're not pretending anymore? I don't know. I don't think so," I replied honestly.

He'd seemed too nervous about the meeting. He didn't appear to be analyzing our body language at all.

She nodded thoughtfully.

"I should call my dad from a payphone before we go back," she remarked. "It's been awhile."

She'd told him that she was going deep undercover, so it wasn't like he expected to hear from her on any kind of regular basis, but she did try to call every three or four weeks.

Although she seemed sad to talk about him tonight.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. It's…tomorrow is his birthday. And I guess I'm just feeling a little bit sentimental."

"You know, Moran was right. We can pull you out of this. You can go back to the department and work it from that end, and…"

"Bobby," she interrupted. "We're in this together. I'm not bailing on you now."

"I know, but…"

She turned toward me and ran her hand over my cheek. I was sporting a fairly heavy beard at the moment, which she'd said that she liked, and she took a moment to smooth her fingers over it.

Then she kissed me firmly.

"No more talk of me quitting. We do this together, okay? Unless you…"

She trailed off and looked at me questioningly.

As if there was any doubt as to whether or not I wanted her with me.

"Definitely together," I agreed.

"Okay, good. That's settled," she said with a smile. "Now let's eat and then we can go home and see what's on that data stick."

TBC...


	14. Chapter 14

**Alex POV**

* * *

Bobby and I sat together at the kitchen table with the laptop between us as we pored over the information on the data stick.

Moran was right.

There was so much here that it would've taken reams of paper to print it all out.

And it was going to take us countless hours to make sense of it.

We'd started out with the agents' financial information, but as expected, there was nothing cut and dried.

No one had any abnormal deposits into their accounts.

No one had unusual spending habits.

None of them were especially well-off.

"Was it too much to hope that Beemer would have regular unexplained cash deposits?" I said in a low voice, mindful of the ever-present bugs.

"We'll keep digging. Hassan didn't get that kind of loyalty for free," he replied.

And he was using his preferred covert technique of whispering directly into my ear, which he followed up with a series of kisses in that same general vicinity.

He'd learned over the course of our weekend at Logan's that my ears are very sensitive and he liked to exploit that. Not that I mind, of course.

I sat still for a moment, enjoying the attention.

"Let's take a break," he said between kisses. He slipped his hand over my lap and grabbed onto my chair, scooting me closer to him.

"And do what?"

My whole body was tingling from his attention and I was really close to dragging him over to the corner of the room. Especially when he ran his hand up my arm and then into my hair, turning my head so that he could kiss me fully.

We let it go on for longer than we usually did while on camera, but I guess maybe we were both getting numb to the idea of being watched.

When he finally pulled away, he stayed close and kept his fingers entwined in my hair. I hadn't cut it in awhile because he'd mentioned once that he really liked it long. Kind of like he'd grown a beard because I mentioned that I thought it made him look sexy.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested.

Not exactly what I'd expected him to say, but still a perfect idea.

So we shutdown the laptop and hit the street. It was a little past nine in the evening, so it was just beginning to get dark.

He took my hand in his and we started down the block.

"Is your dad okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah, he and my mom are both good," I told him.

I was glad that I'd taken the time to call earlier. It seemed to mean a lot to my dad that I'd remembered his birthday.

"They're probably worried about you."

I'd told Dad that I had been assigned to head up a narcotics task force.

He had done a stint with them himself back in the day, and he understood that an undercover with them often meant a considerable amount of time incommunicado.

And it's not that I couldn't have told him the truth about what I was doing.

I could've. I mean, who would he tell?

But narcotics he understood.

Quitting the NYPD to work undercover for the FBI in an effort to track a dirty agent who had ultimately been responsible for blowing Ross' cover, who himself had been working undercover for the Bureau….well, that might be a little too much for him.

"He's okay," I answered.

"Does he know that you're working with me?"

"No. He…he heard that you…um…"

"Got fired?" he supplied.

For some reason, I still had trouble saying it. It had been four months, and it had been for the sole purpose of our investigation, but still…maybe it was because no one knew that it hadn't been for real.

And I didn't like how it made me feel to know that others thought I'd summarily fired my best friend simply because I'd been ordered to do so.

"Yeah, he heard about that. He was pretty upset with me," I admitted. "He said that sometimes friendships were more important than the job."

"I guess he'll be surprised when this is all over, huh?"

"I think a lot of people will be surprised."

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked knowingly. He let go of my hand and instead put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

"You know that I would never do that, right?"

"Of course," he said quickly.

"I'm serious," I insisted. It was suddenly extremely important to me that he know how much more important he was to me than any job. "And when we finish this case, if Moran won't take us back because of our relationship, then I'm okay with not going back."

He was quiet for a minute as we continued to walk.

"I need you to promise me something," he said at last.

"Anything."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"It doesn't matter. You wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

By this point, we were nearing the pier at the end of 26th Street, so he fell silent again as we walked out to the end of it.

We sat down on a bench and looked out onto the Hudson River.

"If Moran follows through with the offer of captain, I want you to take it."

"He won't. After he moved Maas to Deputy Chief, he gave the position to Captain Callas. You know that. And she's not termed pro-temp."

"I know," he agreed. "But I don't think that your offer was just part of the show. I think that he hoped you'd stay and work from the inside. I'm betting that when we go back, he'll find a new home for Callas."

I wasn't sure what to think about that.

He didn't want to be my partner anymore?

"Don't read too much into that," he stated, and it was a little eerie how he could read my mind.

"You don't know what I'm thinking," I argued lightly.

"Yes, I do. You know that you're the best partner I've ever had."

"And yet you suddenly don't want to work with me anymore."

"Alex…" he whispered, and his use of my first name in this unrecorded location caused a fluttering in my stomach. He turned toward me on the bench and covered my cheek with his palm. "I would love nothing more than to spend every waking minute with you. But I'm not going to be responsible for holding you back. And that's what I'd be doing."

"Assuming I want the job."

"You do. I know how much it hurt you to walk away from it. And you did it for me."

"Because I love you," I reminded him. "I'd do it again in a second."

He smiled and rubbed his thumb along the area just in front of my ear.

"I can't get enough of hearing you say that," he replied. "But you shouldn't have to give up your goals for me. You took that lieutenant's exam for a reason. We talked about that. At the time, you told me that you weren't expecting anything to come of it, but if it did, then you'd have a lot of thinking to do."

"Because then I'd be torn between wanting to stay with you and wanting to better my career," I admitted.

"Well something did come of it. And I knew it would because you're too smart and ambitious to get overlooked. And now you don't have to worry about staying with me. You can move up in the department and you'll still always have me."

"Will I?" I asked, and I didn't mean for it to sound like I was asking for any kind of commitment, but the thought had crossed my mind more than once that this situation we were in was merely perpetuating our relationship.

He leaned down and kissed me, so sweetly and tenderly that it brought tears to my eyes. He had a knack for infusing his emotion into each kiss and there were times when it was almost overwhelming.

And then, as we sat on the bench and kissed with increasing passion, it started to rain.

I suddenly felt like laughing.

"Why does it always seem to rain when we're having life-altering conversations?" I asked him, holding my cheek against his and feeling his beard against my skin.

"I have no idea, but I think I like it."

I pushed my fingers into his hair and kissed him again, suddenly desperate for affirmation of his feelings.

He didn't let me down.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me impossibly closer, continuing his assault on my mouth until at last we each pulled away breathless.

"Alex, I love you. I loved you before this assignment started, and I'll keep on loving you long after it's over. If you want some kind of commitment from me, some grand gesture of undying love and loyalty…well, I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want. Because I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

I held his gaze and I was struck by the sincerity behind his offer.

He would actually marry me if that's what I wanted.

"I don't need anything but your word," I told him. Just knowing he was willing was enough.

"You have it. I mean it, I'm not going anywhere. This wasn't a whim or a convenient fling. This is it."

"Okay," I said with a nod.

And I couldn't help but smile.

I wasn't sure why I felt so emotional and needy tonight, but it was nice to be able to be myself and be honest about it.

"And I promise," I added.

He smiled back at me and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

I didn't expect that Moran would actually attempt to put me back in that office, but if he did…well, I'd take it.

And I'd be the best damn captain that department had ever seen.

"You know that means you'll be taking orders from me, right?" I asked him after a minute. I still had my head against him and I could feel him chuckling.

"And that will be different…how?" he teased.

I barked out a laugh, but then I was assaulted by an old and painful memory.

I got up from the bench and walked over to the railing so that I could look down into the water.

It was fully dark now, and although the pier was dimly lit, the water was pitch black.

The rain continued to fall and we were both soaked to the bone, but it was still warm outside.

Bobby followed me to the edge and put a hand on either side of me, trapping me against the wooden rail.

He was close, and I could feel every inch of him against my back.

And that was appropriate.

The closeness, I mean.

Because emotionally, I felt closer to him than I'd ever been with any person in my life.

"I got offered my shield in 1996," I said suddenly. "Did you know that?"

"You were with Vice," he said, leaning his head down next to mine so that I could once again feel the softness of his beard on my cheek. "I thought you got it in '97."

"I did," I said. "But it was offered to me in '96."

He was quiet for a minute and I waited for him to grasp what I was telling him.

"So, they wanted to promote you sooner and you turned it down?"

"Yeah."

"Because…"

"Because Joe hadn't gotten the nod."

That was the first time that I'd said those words out loud.

_Ever_.

And as they escaped, the rush of emotion that I'd felt at the time hit me with amazing strength.

"My captain told me about it," I continued. "And I was so excited that I called him while he was working. And right away that pissed him off because he was _working_. He was in narcotics at the time, but as an officer, not a detective. And he'd graduated the academy a year before me."

"So he got upset that his wife was outshining him," he said knowingly. He moved one hand from the rail and slid it across my stomach, anchoring me to him.

"Upset is a really nice way to put it," I said. "He took an early lunch and met up with me in a diner down the street from his precinct. He convinced me that if I took the promotion, it would make him look bad, and he'd never hear the end of it. He made me feel like I had done something wrong."

"Alex…"

"No, I know that I didn't. And I know that I should've taken the promotion anyway, but at the time…well, at the time I felt like I was making the choice between my marriage and the job."

Again, words I'd never spoken.

And it was why my gut reaction to Bobby's request for a promise had been no.

_Hell no_.

Because even if he thought he meant it now, how would he feel about it once I was his boss?

"Loving someone means wanting to see them succeed and being happy for them when they do," he said quietly. "It's not a competition between us."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"I do. Would I have made you promise me if I didn't?"

"No," I admitted on a sigh. Bobby was nothing if not honest.

And he'd always respected me, from day one. There wasn't a chauvinistic bone in his body.

"Well, it may be a moot point," I said. "First we have to find our guy, and then we have to convince Moran to bring us back."

"He'll bring us back," he said confidently. Then he stepped back from me and I turned around to find him looking at the sky. "You have a thing for rain, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I'm sure I don't need to spout off the symbolism to you."

"No. It's cleansing. It's conducive to purging the soul and it offers a fresh start."

"Or maybe I just want to make love in it," I countered.

He dropped his eyes to mine and quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Here?"

I glanced around us and then looked back at him.

"I don't see anyone, do you? I've purged my soul, and we've promised each other forever," I reminded him as I moved my hands down over his butt. His shorts were soaked through and I could easily feel the tight muscles through the damp fabric. "I think we need to seal the deal."

"You're a dangerous woman, Eames."

"Are we back to Eames now?" I teased as I moved my hand around to the front, slipping it between us and pushing hard against his burgeoning arousal.

"We might end up on Youtube," he warned me as he once again backed me against the rail.

At one time, there was no way in the world I would've considered what we were about to do.

Maybe my time under surveillance had turned me into an exhibitionist.

Or maybe it was just that Bobby made me hotter than any man ever had before and it was hard to control myself around him, I don't know.

I wasn't going to take the time to analyze it.

Not when he had his hands under my skirt.

"Well we'd better make it good then, don't you think?"

TBC...


	15. Chapter 15

**Bobby POV**

* * *

It was the day before my birthday, and Alex and I were stuck in undercover hell.

I might even think that the Bureau was screwing with us, but if they were, I couldn't figure out why.

I mean, if we'd been made, something more monumental should have occurred.

As it was, we'd simply been sent on another case.

A minor, inconsequential case that involved long hours, hard work, and a lot of time around some unsavory characters.

And maybe that's not really so different than a lot of other cases we'd done, except that this time we were working in conjunction with the NYPD.

Only the department didn't know it.

We'd been tasked with the assignment of busting open an operation that was bringing in untaxed alcohol.

Like I said, I would think that the Bureau would have bigger fish to fry, but apparently this particular subheading of racketeering was a popular crime and one that the newest director of the FBI had declared war upon.

So I was back to being a bouncer. Standing tall, throwing my weight around, keeping an eye out for weapons, and trying to look like a bad ass.

And Alex was a waitress. Very short shorts, tight shirt, serving copious amounts of alcohol to men who then wanted to cop a feel, and constantly reminding me that she could handle herself.

See what I mean? Undercover hell.

Alex said that the only saving grace was that the required footwear was tennis shoes, but I wasn't sure that comfortable shoes made up for the amount of times she had to tolerate a hand on her ass.

In fact, I'm sure it didn't.

Although I always made a point of having a chat with grabby customers, just to make sure they knew that the wait staff was _not_ on the menu.

We'd been working this particular job for two weeks.

On our third night, Alex had spotted two members of Vice, so that's how we knew that the department was running a sting, too.

One of their guys was a bartender, and the other was another waitress.

They didn't seem to recognize Alex, so our cover wasn't blown, but it was like having two roosters in the hen house.

Sort of.

We'd reported to Maas as soon as we made their undercovers, but he'd directed us to keep working the case.

We didn't mention them to Stahl, mostly out of loyalty to the department.

Whoever got enough evidence first could make the bust as far as I was concerned.

Either way, the guys running the bar and bringing in bootleg liquor were going to end up in jail.

Time would tell whether it was federal or state.

The past six weeks had flown by and I felt like Alex and I were making good progress with the Ross case.

And to be honest, with our personal lives as well.

She'd thrown me for a loop, that night out on the pier, both by her insecurity with our relationship and by her interest in making love in public.

But I'd been more than happy to accommodate her needs, in both aspects.

And I'd meant what I said.

I didn't feel any need to get married, but not because I wasn't sure about her.

More because I didn't put much stock in the institution itself.

But I knew for a fact that I didn't want anyone but her. So if she wanted me to commit legally, then I would in a second.

But she didn't. Apparently she felt the same way that I did about it.

So we'd been working this case, trying to worm our way into the good graces of the bar manager so that we might learn information about their suppliers.

We usually worked until two or three in the morning, and then we'd go home and keep working the phone records from 1PP.

Maas had brought us another data stick at the last meeting, this one containing employees' personal phone records.

I hadn't asked how he'd gotten it, but I was grateful because so far the business lines had come up clean.

Although it was hard to be sure.

We spent a lot of time on payphones, placing calls to cell phones just to see who answered.

It was a needle in a haystack, but I was sure that the needle was there somewhere, so we kept looking.

"Alex!" I heard the bartender shouted loudly above the din. "You're backing up!"

I glanced across the room and saw that Alex was encircled by a group of drunken construction workers.

She'd apparently been serving their drinks when three of them came back from the bathroom and so they were now standing behind her, keeping her pinned in between them and the table.

I moved quickly toward them, mentally berating myself for not seeing her dilemma sooner.

I was going to have a talk with the bartender, too. He'd been yelling at her for not picking up the drinks that he had ready for her customers, but he should've looked to see the cause of the hold up.

"You're going to want to step back right now," I said firmly as I put a hand on the shoulder of the closest man.

But the words had barely left my mouth when Alex let loose with a punch on the man nearest to her, sending him flying back into his buddy and both men went down to the ground.

The men who were still sitting erupted into laughter at the sight of their friends going down from her punch. I deemed them mostly harmless and instead focused on the other three.

"Are you okay?" I asked Alex as I grabbed onto the shirt front of the one man still standing.

"Yeah," she replied with a sharp nod.

"Hey, we were just messing around," said the guy I was holding.

"Well, mess around somewhere else," I told him. "Get out. Now."

"She hit _me_!" complained the guy who'd been punched. He was slowly getting to his feet, as was the one who'd been flattened by his friend.

"And she did a damn good job of it too," I retorted. He had blood coming from his nose at an impressive rate. "Now get the hell out of here before she hits you again."

"You're kicking _us_ out? What about her?"

I grabbed the man by the arm and shoved him in the direction of the door. His friends went willingly, but he seemed to feel the need to recoup some of his pride after being felled by a woman.

But I had him by at least six inches and fifty pounds, not to mention the fact that I was pissed off that he'd done something worthy of that type of reaction from her, so I had no trouble hauling him out of the bar.

Once I got him to the doorway, I gave him a hard shove out onto the sidewalk.

"Don't come back," I told him firmly.

"Bobby."

I turned to find my boss standing behind me.

"Yeah, sorry. They…um…they were giving Alex a hard time."

"I know. But it looked to me like she was handling it. And you kicked them out before they paid their bill."

I took a deep breath, reining in my temper as I looked over his shoulder to find Alex.

She'd gone back to work, carrying a tray of drinks to another table, but she was watching me.

She gave me a reassuring nod to let me know that she was okay and so I returned my focus to my boss.

"I'm sorry. I'll cover it."

"I know you will," he said. He held my gaze for a minute and then he relaxed. "Come on. Take a break for a minute. Lou can watch the door."

I followed him behind the bar and through a door into a back office. He closed the door behind us and then sat down at his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

"Sit down, Bobby. You're wound up like a fucking top."

I sat down and then took the offered glass of whiskey.

"I know that you and Alex are a thing, but you can't be going off on every guy who grabs her ass. You got me?"

"Yeah, Tony," I agreed.

I mean, I _didn't_ agree, but I also couldn't let myself get fired.

Because what if the feds insisted that the undercover continue with just Alex?

There was no way I wanted her working in this place without me here to keep an eye on her.

And yeah, she'd probably punch me for such a caveman-like thought, but still…this place was rough.

"Because I can't afford having someone call the cops on us. Are you hearing what I'm saying?"

I nodded and tried not to show that he had suddenly piqued my interest. I tossed back the whiskey and set my empty glass on his desk.

"It won't happen again."

"Good. You're a good guy, Bobby. I'd like to think that maybe I can trust you, but I'm not sure."

"You can trust me, Tony."

He continued to stare at me as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one and I took it, even though it had been awhile since I'd smoked. I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to bond with him.

"Then I've got a job for you," he told me.

"Sure, boss. What is it?"

"I think maybe Rudy is blue. Are you feeling me, Bobby?"

"Uh, yeah. But…I don't know about that."

"Lou caught him in here yesterday. Can you look into it for me? If he's five-o, I need to know."

I was having a hard time keeping my features schooled.

This guy was clueless.

Not only was he asking an undercover federal agent to look into the possibility that another employee might be an undercover cop, but he was doing so on the word of the guy who actually _was_ the cop.

Rudy was clean.

Lou was the cop.

But it had been smart of Lou to throw suspicion onto someone else, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ruin the game, so I agreed to keep a close eye on Rudy.

Tony shook my hand, poured me a second shot, and then sent me on my way.

"You can leave early tonight," he told me as I headed for the door. "Lou can close up."

"It's okay," I argued. "I don't mind."

"I'll let Alex go, too," he said with a smile.

So I went back to my post near the door.

Tony obviously had something to hide, but he hadn't given me any indication as to what just yet.

But I'd earned his trust. So it was only a matter of time before he'd let me in on his little secret.

"Tony said that I can leave in an hour," Alex said as she slipped up behind me. "And don't ask about that other thing, okay?"

"I can ask later though, right?"

She flashed me a smile and reached up to kiss me on the cheek.

"No. Because we're going to celebrate your birthday tonight. I don't want to risk having something come up tomorrow."

"Celebrate? What did you have in mind? I don't usually…"

"I know," she said. "But trust me, okay?"

"You have to ask?"

"Alex!" Rudy shouted.

I was really going to have a talk with that guy.

And hell, maybe I'd tell Tony that he _was _a cop.

An hour later, Alex and I left the bar together. We walked quietly for a few blocks, and then we stopped and she hailed a cab.

"Where are we going?" I asked her as I climbed into the backseat with her.

"You'll see."

She handed the cabbie a piece of paper, presumably with the address of our destination. I didn't push her on the issue because she seemed to be enjoying having a secret, so instead, I told her about what had happened with Tony.

"That's good then," she said. "And I got the chance to snoop around in the back a little bit tonight, too."

"What did you find?"

"It looks like he's pulling the shipping labels off the liquor that he's bringing in, but one of the boxes had a small corner still intact. I was able to get the first few letters of each line on the return address," she said as she pulled a slip of paper from her pocket.

The action brought my attention to the tiny shorts that she was wearing and I momentarily forgot all about the case.

Instead, I ran my hand over the expanse of visible thigh.

"Bobby," she said in amusement. "Do you want to see what I got?"

"Yes, I very much want to see what you've got," I replied, not remotely referring to the piece of paper.

I shifted in the seat and moved my hand up along her side, brushing lightly against the side of her breast before I continued upward and settled my hand on the side of her neck.

I brought my lips to hers and lost myself in the moment. I didn't want to think about racketeering or undercover operations or the feds or the department.

I just wanted her.

I didn't stop kissing her until the cab came to a stop.

"Thirteen-fifty," the driver said blandly, pretending that we hadn't been making out throughout the course of the drive.

I pulled a twenty from my pocket and got out of the car without waiting for change.

"We're going to Logan's?" I asked as I looked around the neighborhood.

She took my hand and started walking, but didn't respond.

Logan's.

How sad was it that I was excited by the prospect?

A night without observation would be a pretty damn good birthday present.

He buzzed us in and we went up to his apartment, where he met us at the front door.

"Oh my God," he said slowly as he got a good look at Alex.

I hadn't thought about the fact that he didn't even know about our current case, much less had he seen her in the waitress get-up.

In fact, I had no doubt that he'd never seen her in such revealing clothing.

"Not a word," she said to him as she walked past him into his apartment.

He just grinned and looked at me, then back at her.

"And you can quit staring any time," I added.

"Sorry," he said quickly and unrepentantly. He closed the door behind us and followed me as I headed for his kitchen, which was where Alex had gone. "It's just...wow. So…um…I guess you guys are working another case, huh? I bet they love you two. Not everyone could pull off that look."

And my smart retort to him was lost when I saw Alex standing in the kitchen, holding a birthday cake. There were lit candles on it, and for a moment, I was too choked up to say anything.

"You…you got me a cake?" I asked at last.

Not really the most astute thing to say, but it was all I seemed capable of producing.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a cake on my birthday.

"Well, it is your birthday, right? I mean, tomorrow, but…" she paused and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven-thirty. "Well, it's almost tomorrow."

"Make a wish and blow them out before you set the damn place on fire," Logan said with a grin.

But I didn't need to make a wish.

Everything I wanted was standing right in front of me.

TBC...


	16. Chapter 16

**Bobby POV**

* * *

It was the end of September before we caught a real break.

And I don't mean in the bootleg liquor case. Alex and I wrapped that one up a week after my birthday.

Vice was mad as hell that we stole their bust, but Moran absorbed the heat for us.

"They were in there for two months before you guys got there," he'd told us as he sat across the table from us at a diner in North Bergen. He'd replaced Maas again at the progress meeting that took place the week after the bust. "If they couldn't break the guy in that much time, then that's their problem."

"Alex managed to find a portion of the shipping address," I'd explained him. "That put us on the right track."

"And it was Bobby who earned Tony's trust," Alex had deflected. "Without that, we would've never had access to his office."

It didn't hit me until later that I'd called her Alex in front of Moran. I had a feeling that maybe we weren't being as slick as we thought about the reality of our relationship.

But Moran had just looked at me thoughtfully for a minute and then gave me a nod.

"Nice work, Goren," he'd said gruffly. "Now where are we on the Ross case?"

And at the time, we didn't have much to report.

We were so inundated with phone records that I was seeing numbers in my sleep.

But then we found it.

Or rather, Alex found it.

"Look at this," she said to me.

It was a Friday evening and we were sitting on the couch together. I had the computer resting on my lap, and she was leaning against me with her head on my shoulder.

As she spoke, she reached out and touched the screen, pointing out a series of phone numbers.

The records we were currently looking at belonged to Isabelle Mullins.

"She's um…" I mumbled.

"Uh huh. And that's…"

"I…yeah. When…"

"It's right."

See, we'd been under surveillance for six months.

And people thought that we spoke in code and broken sentences _before_.

They should see us now. We could go on for hours without a verb in sight.

But what our conversation meant was that she'd spotted an abnormality in the phone records of Isabelle, who was an employee of the NYPD's Human Resources department.

As we analyzed the data further, we found that in February and March, nearly every weekday around noon, Isabelle had placed a call to a payphone.

"What do you want to bet that…"

"Uh huh. Do you…"

"No, but…"

"Definitely."

Our theory was that someone had called her but hung up before it went through, prompting her to call the payphone.

And I didn't know who she was.

Maas hadn't brought us personnel files, because he'd said that he didn't want to do that until we could narrow down the field.

So I didn't know if Isabelle was a sixty-three year old grandmother or a twenty-two year old straight out of college.

But the fact that she made regular calls to a payphone, probably on her lunch break, and definitely during the time that Ross would have been working undercover, well…let's just say it sounded the alarm.

I wanted to know more about her and what she was up to during that time.

Because was it a coincidence that Stahl and Beemer had known about my time in Tates?

That information shouldn't have been anywhere but in my personnel file, something that this person would obviously have access to.

"We need to…"

"Yeah. Now?"

"Sure," she replied with a shrug.

She got up from the couch and picked up the computer from my lap. She was careful to keep the screen facing away from the camera on the bookshelf as she closed the files and shut it down.

These little precautionary measures were like second nature to us by now.

"Let me change and we can go out to dinner," she told me.

"Why would I want you to change?" I said playfully as I stood up and put my arms around her. "I love you just the way you are."

She chuckled at my lame joke and slipped out of my embrace. I watched her walk down the hall and into the bedroom, where I knew that she'd change clothes in the blind corner.

I had to wonder if our voyeurs knew that we knew, since we never made love in the bed, or on the couch, or anywhere else that was visible.

And she never changed clothes in the bedroom unless she was in the far corner.

They probably thought that she was the biggest prude ever.

_If they only knew…_

"Okay, I'm ready," she said as she came back down the hall.

Her hair was swept up into a ponytail and she'd changed from her shorts and t-shirt into jeans and a sleeveless top.

Sometimes it really struck me hard just how beautiful she was.

"Are you sure you want to go out?" I asked her, and I couldn't resist pulling her back into my arms. "We can stay here…order in…"

I danced a step or two with her and then dipped her low and whispered, "And we could spend some quality time in the bathroom…"

She laughed as I swung her back up to her feet.

"What has gotten into you?" she asked, shaking her head at my sudden exuberance.

"I'm just not sure if I want to share you with the rest of the world."

And yeah, I was only teasing.

We were going out so that we could make a call to Maas and arrange a meeting.

But part of me meant what I said and I was suddenly swamped with a sense of longing.

I wanted to pull out that hair band so I could feel the silky strands of her hair in my hands…

I wanted to make love to her in a real bed while she gazed up at me with those honey-colored eyes…

I wanted _privacy_ again.

Instead, I settled for running my hand over her smooth ponytail.

"Let's go."

Once we were out on the street, she took my hand and suggested that we go to Sal's for dinner.

"That's fine," I agreed.

"What's going on?" she asked me quietly. "You were happy and then…you weren't."

"I think this is just getting to me," I admitted. "I knew that it would take time, but…it's been six months. And we're still being watched. And we don't even know for sure by whom."

"And?"

"There has to be more?" I asked, even though she was right.

There was more, although it stemmed back to what I'd already said.

"Okay. You don't have to tell me," she replied casually. "Yet. But I have ways of making you talk."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" I asked, my mood lightening once again.

And maybe it was because even though we were in public, no one was paying any attention to us.

Or maybe it was just her.

"Call it what you will," she said with a smirk. "But you know I'll get it out of you."

We turned the corner and stopped at a payphone that was outside of a drug store.

I was still holding her hand, and before she could move to make the call, I pulled her toward me, grabbing onto the other hand as well.

"Sometimes it's just frustrating," I began. "We have to hide in our own house. I want to be able to be spontaneous instead of calculated. I don't want to have to think about every word that comes out of my mouth. And sometimes when I look at you and it just hits me that you're so incredibly beautiful…I want to be able to make love to you in our bed or on the living room floor…or in the kitchen."

"Never let it be said that you don't have a way with words," she said softly, and her cheeks were flushed from my vivid description.

She let go of my hands and instead wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her cheek against my chest.

"We'll finish this thing," she promised. "And then we'll do all of those things."

"I know," I admitted. "It just gets to me sometimes."

We held each other for another minute and then she pulled back and looked up at me.

"You know that you said _our_ house, right? And _our _bed…"

"It is," I replied with a shrug. "I hope it won't end when the investigation does."

It was probably the most backwards way ever of asking about living together, but with the way that she smiled at me, I didn't worry too much about the lack of romance.

"You are going to fumigate, right?" she asked me.

"Absolutely."

"Good. So do you want to call, or should I?"

So I called Maas and we made arrangements to meet the next morning, and then the two of us went to Sal's for dinner.

After dinner, after two hours of looking at her in candlelight, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Come on," I said when we left the restaurant. I guided her in the direction opposite the apartment. "There's no one following us."

"No," she agreed. "I don't know why they would. I mean, listening to us in the apartment is one thing. They just want to know what we know. But they'd have no reason to follow us to dinner on a Friday night. Not after all this time. We've earned their trust."

"Exactly," I said.

So I stopped at an ATM and withdrew some cash and then continued walking down 26th Street.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Six blocks later, we came to the Hilton Garden.

"Bobby…"

"No one will ever know. And what difference will it make if they do?"

"If the NYPD finds out, then we're busted," she argued lightly. "We can't explain this away by stating it was part of an assignment. We're not on a case at the moment. And Maas knows that."

"The NYPD won't find out," I assured her, although I had to wonder if my desire was overriding my good sense.

Would they find out? And was I willing to risk our return to the department?

"We'll get two rooms," I said. "We'll just tell Maas that we needed a break from the cameras. He'll understand and so will Moran."

She looked at me for a minute and then broke into a smile.

"You are really good at this."

"There are other things I'm good at," I replied suggestively.

"Then hurry up and get a couple of rooms," she said. "I'll wait by the elevators."

Twenty minutes later, I had her right where I wanted her.

Naked on the bed with her eyes fixated on me.

And I planned take advantage of our seclusion.

I was going to take my time and worship every inch of her.

Morning came much too soon for my liking, but I wasn't going to be greedy. It had been a much-needed respite from reality, but it was time to get back to work.

We still had a mole to find and now we had a lead, and our night in the hotel had served to recharge my batteries.

We took the subway to a diner near the Brooklyn Navy Yard and went inside to wait for Maas to arrive.

We didn't have to wait long.

"Detectives," he greeted as he sat down. He was carrying a backpack with him, but he just set it down in the seat beside him without comment.

"Thanks for meeting with us so early," I said.

"I just hope your lead pans out," he replied. "I got what you asked for. The personnel files of the HR staff and a layout of their office. Can I ask what you're thinking?"

"There were daily calls to a payphone," Alex told him.

"Someone would find payphone calls if they pulled up my cell phone record, too," he said pointedly. "It doesn't mean that she's dirty."

"We're not saying that she is," I agreed. "But it's worth a closer look."

"Why the layout?"

"If it's not her, it may be someone who was using her phone after she'd left for lunch. The desks are all out in the open, right?"

"That's right."

"What do you know about Isabelle Mullins?" I asked him.

Because even though he'd brought us the file, first-hand accountings were always better.

"Nothing. I'd never heard her name until you asked about her."

"But you're fairly new to 1PP," Alex reminded him. "Surely you had to go by HR."

"I did," he said with a nod. "But if I met her, I don't remember it. And I looked at her picture in the file. I'm pretty sure I'd remember."

"She's attractive?" I asked.

"Very."

I looked at Alex and she gave me a slow nod.

"That would make sense," she said.

"But what about…"

"Maybe. We should…"

"Uh huh. It seems more like…"

"I know, but I'd rather…"

"Me, too."

"Detectives," Maas interrupted. He stared at us with open confusion and then shook his head and looked out the window. "We have got to get you two out of this assignment before you quit using words altogether."

"Sorry," I began quickly. "It's just that we have to, you know…"

"Abbreviate for the eavesdroppers," Alex supplied.

"Oh, I get it," he said with a nod. "But I've been married for eighteen years. My wife and I can't communicate that well even using whole sentences and an interpreter."

I barked out a self-conscious laugh and struggled to decipher the intent of his statement.

Was he suggesting that he knew something more was going on? Or was he just marveling at our uncanny ability to work together?

Maybe I was just being paranoid because only an hour ago, I'd had Alex up against the hotel room door. A last parting rendezvous before heading back into the fishbowl.

"Lieutenant," I began.

"Actually, it's captain now," he told us. "As of last week."

"Congratulations," Alex told him. "We hadn't heard. We're kind of…"

"Out of the loop," I finished.

He looked back and forth between us again and I had the same feeling that I'd had with Moran a few weeks back.

We weren't fooling anyone.

Although, no one seemed to be too concerned about it either, so I couldn't let it bother me.

"Captain," I began again. "Give us some time to go through this new material, and then we'll probably need to meet with you again. There are a couple of agents who seem to fit the profile as to the type who would be able to charm an attractive secretary into coming off information. We'll need to talk with them and maybe get some more details on their personal lives."

"You might have better luck with that yourselves," he said. "What kind of clearance do you have for the Bureau system?"

"Low-level," I admitted. "But I'm not sure how much we'd need to access the kind of basic information we'd be looking for."

"Although you know they'll be able to track file access," Alex said.

"Then do it so that it doesn't come back to you," Maas told us. He pulled out a twenty and put it on the table. He stood up, leaving the backpack on the seat. "Have breakfast on me and then get back to it."

"So you're going to bail us out if we get arrested for computer trespass?" I asked him.

"No," he said with a smile. "So don't get caught."

TBC...


	17. Chapter 17

**Alex POV**

* * *

By the end of the weekend, Bobby and I couldn't wait to go back to the federal building, armed with our new information.

His money was on Banta and mine was on Beemer, although I had to admit that I was biased.

Even though Beemer had mostly left me alone since our stairwell incident, I still hated him with every fiber of my being.

Bobby's theory was based on Banta's reputation, considering the attractiveness of Isabelle Mullins.

"You've heard his stories," he reminded me.

It was Sunday night and I was filling the tub with water.

Back in the beginning of this assignment, we'd come in the bathroom to talk, and we'd turn on the sink or the shower just for the noise factor and then we'd stand in the room and talk.

Now that our relationship had evolved, we actually got into the tub together.

It wasn't all that big, but it worked.

We usually stayed in until we ran out of hot water, simply because we could talk quietly without reservation.

"I've heard enough," I agreed. "But I just don't see him having a motive."

"So what's Beemer's motive?"

"I think he's motivated by power. He likes thinking that he's the smartest man in the room. And he gets off on being in control. By hooking up with Hassan, he feels like he's got one up on the Bureau. So when Stahl brought Ross into the operation, he had to tell Hassan."

"What about Patal? They didn't kill him, and you know that Beemer knew about him, too."

Patal was a Bureau informant and an electronics expert. He'd supposedly verified for Hassan that the weapons in the shipment were clean of tracking devices.

"I'm betting that Patal came clean with Hassan. I mean, they still haven't tracked the weapons, have they?"

He nodded in agreement.

We'd discussed Patal's role in the operation before.

The Bureau couldn't be sure that he'd played both sides because they couldn't be sure where the weapons were until they were armed. But in the mean time, they weren't using his services any more.

Of course, that information wasn't restricted to Beemer. Any of the agents on the task force would know that, including Banta, so it didn't exactly help narrow the field.

I stripped out of my clothes and stuck one foot into the tub to test the water.

"And you know," I added suddenly. "Maybe Ross was even suspicious of Beemer. I mean, surely there were ways that he could've gotten Ross pulled from the assignment. But instead, Beemer ratted him out, knowing that they'd kill him."

"Before Ross could point the finger at him?"

"I don't know," I admitted with a shrug. "I'm just speculating."

"It's not an implausible theory," he conceded.

I stood next to the tub and watched him as he pulled off his sweatpants and t-shirt.

"You know, he tried to fix me up the other day," he said as he finished removing his clothes and stepped up next to the tub.

"Who? Beemer?"

"Banta."

"With who?" I asked, and I had a flash of jealousy that caught me by surprise.

First of all, I'm not really the jealous type. And secondly, he obviously hadn't gone through with any kind of fix up.

But still…just the thought had me a little peeved.

"I don't know for sure," he said with a shake of his head. "We didn't get that far. Some woman in cyber crimes."

"Why would he do that? Everyone at the Bureau knows we're together."

Bobby eased down in the hot water and then motioned for me to get in. I sat at the opposite end and he immediately picked up one of my feet.

"He had some whole thing worked out," he told me as he rubbed his thumb over the sole. "He told me that you'd never find out."

"Why?" I asked again.

"I think he wanted to impress me," he said casually.

"Or maybe he wanted to have something on you," I suggested. "If you'd done it, then he'd have leverage."

"Which would suggest that maybe he is our guy," he asserted. "Otherwise what good would leverage do him?"

"I don't know," I mumbled.

I couldn't get past the visual of Bobby out on a date with some nameless, faceless woman.

It had bugged me back in the old days when we were merely partners. I'd always hated to think about who he might be out with, although in his defense, he mostly kept that information to himself.

I had no doubt that he had dated, probably quite a bit.

I mean, he's too good-looking to not get hit on by women on a fairly regular basis.

I'd witnessed it myself on more than one occasion and I'd always managed to hold my tongue.

For the most part.

But on the inside, it used to tear me up because I just knew that I'd never have a chance with him.

This was one time that I was really glad I'd been wrong.

But even now, now that I knew that he loved me and I trusted him to be faithful, the thought of another woman even getting the idea that he might be interested…well, that just didn't sit right with me.

Like I said, I may have never been the jealous type before, but I sure as hell was now.

"That bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked me as he switched to my other foot. "You know that I wouldn't…I mean, it was never even a remote consideration."

"I know that," I said quickly.

Because I did.

He was too honest for that.

And most women probably think that their man would never cheat. Hell, I didn't think that Joe would ever cheat on me either.

But this was different.

Bobby wouldn't do it because trust was too important to him, too ingrained in him to ever abuse it.

"Do you?" he asked me softly as he brought my foot up to his lips.

He kissed the instep and then worked his way along each toe. I felt myself relaxing under his ministrations.

I realized that I'd been getting worked up for nothing.

"Yes," I answered.

I leaned my head back against the edge of the tub and closed my eyes as he continued his assault on my foot.

"So tell me how Beemer fits," he said, moving his attention from my foot to my calf.

"Beemer was Stahl's partner. He would know every move that she made."

"True. But Banta was on the task force. He would have access to that information, too."

"Beemer got leapfrogged by Stahl," I reminded him. "That had to piss him off. Maybe it was his way of sticking it to the Bureau."

He hummed thoughtfully, but I was losing my focus.

I've loved his fingers for years, but now that I knew exactly what kind of touch they could offer…it was even better than I'd imagined.

His constant need to be in motion was a really good thing.

So while I felt like my muscles were melting into the soapy water, he kept up a steady stroking and kneading along my legs.

And then, out of nowhere, I had an idea.

I was amazed that my brain was even still working, considering that he'd shifted his position in the tub and had presently worked his way up to my thighs.

But it _was_ working.

And it had flashed back on what he'd said earlier.

"Cyber crimes?" I asked him without opening my eyes.

"Alex, I promise you. There's no need…"

"Maybe you should take Banta up on his suggestion," I interrupted.

My words caused his fingers to stop moving, so I raised my head to look at him.

"You want me to…"

"We need to look at some personnel files without getting caught, right?"

"Well, yeah…"

"And I'm betting that someone in cyber crimes is probably pretty adept with a computer. And if she's trying to impress the smartest man in the FBI, who just happens to be extremely charming…"

"You're trying to pimp me out?" he asked me as he finally grasped what I was suggesting.

His hands tightened their grip on my thighs and then he grabbed onto my hips and pulled me closer to him so that I was straddling his lap.

"I'm trying find a way for you to finesse confidential information," I modified.

"Weren't you jealous just a few minutes ago?" he asked as he ran his hands up my back.

"I was. And I still am," I admitted. "But I'm willing to deal with it if it means we can get our information. I mean, you had to watch me walking around in that bar wearing practically the equivalent of underwear, right? So maybe it's my turn to suffer a little for the greater good."

"I don't want you to suffer," he countered. "Besides, how am I supposed to get her to look up that kind of information?"

"You can talk a tiger out of his stripes," I replied. "And I'll chat up Banta while you're in with the floozy."

He chuckled lightly as he nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck and then began kissing his way up to my ear.

"Floozy? She's a federal agent."

"So am I. And I'm betting that I'm a lot better shot than she is, so as long as she stays behind her desk and you finagle information from her, we'll be fine. If she makes a move on you beyond harmless flirting, I won't be responsible for my actions."

"And while I'm doing that, you're going to talk to Banta?"

"You can tell him to keep me occupied so that you don't get caught."

"Well, what if that was his goal?" he asked reasonably.

"To distract you so that he could get me alone?"

I hadn't considered that, but I couldn't imagine that was the case. I mean, I had no doubt that he was nowhere near as lucky with women as he claimed to be, but still…

"I can handle myself," I said. "And I can pump him for information. You think he's our guy, right?"

"Maybe."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do," I told him. "While you behave yourself."

"I don't have to behave myself right now, do I?" he asked me, his hands once again on my hips.

I could feel the length of him pressing against me, so close to where I wanted it to be, but just not quite there yet…

"Absolutely not. In fact, I think that you should be as bad as possible."

So we spent the next half-hour being very bad.

Or really, really good, depending on how you look at it.

Then we got out of the tub and into our modest sleeping attire and left the sanctity of the bathroom.

I remembered back to the time when I'd been perplexed by his full-size bed.

Now it seemed plenty big enough because the two of us slept together in the middle with his arms around me and our legs entangled beneath the covers.

Monday morning, we went into work at the federal building.

We'd only been there for a few minutes when SAC Casteel summoned us to his office.

"Agents Goren and Eames," he greeted. "Come in."

It felt like being called into the principal's office and I was a little worried about what sin we may have unwittingly committed. His face was a hard read, as he managed to keep it expressionless the majority of the time.

"So," he began once we were seated. "It has been brought to my attention that the two of you have yet to complete your training at Quantico."

My heart sank at the prospect. I'd been hoping desperately that we wouldn't still be around when it came time to have this conversation.

Four months, in gender-specific dorms, working our asses off while having no access or availability to work on this case.

It would be four months down the drain.

"Sir, it was my understanding that it wasn't a priority," I said.

"It wasn't," he agreed. "But you two have been here for six months. I believe that surpasses the leeway of professional courtesy."

"Well, you have kept us pretty busy," Bobby reminded him.

"You've made a name for yourselves in a very short period of time," he said with a nod. "And your dedication to undercover work is a rare commodity. Most agents burn out quickly doing that type of thing."

"We enjoy it," I said.

"I'm glad to hear it. Unfortunately, I can't put off your required training for much longer."

At his statement, I relaxed marginally and smiled on the inside.

_Can't put it off for much longer_ meant that he _would_ put it off for now.

Which was a huge relief because I'd had the sudden image of him ordering us directly from his office to the airport.

"We understand, Sir," Bobby said. "We'll be sure to make arrangements with Agent Stahl to schedule the training in the near future."

"The very near future," Casteel amended.

"Yes sir."

"That's all," he said, waving his hand at us dismissively. "And keep up the good work."

We were almost to the door when I stopped and decided to push the envelope by asking the question.

"Sir, if I may," I began. "Can you tell us who brought it to your attention?"

Was it someone whose job it was to follow up on those types of things?

Or was it just an agent who was poking his nose into our business?

Maybe someone who had a reason for wanting to get rid of us for four months.

"I'm sorry?"

"You said that it was brought to your attention that we hadn't completed our training. I was just curious as to who mentioned it to you."

He stared at me for so long that I thought he wasn't going to answer.

And then I panicked, thinking that maybe I'd pissed him off and so now he was going to send us to Quantico immediately.

But then he started nodding his head as though he'd just remembered.

"It took me a minute," he said, confirming my assessment. "But I remember now. It was Agent Beemer."

TBC...


	18. Chapter 18

**Alex POV**

* * *

I knew it.

I knew that little prick Beemer was behind this.

But before I could gloat, Bobby nudged me off to the side in hallway.

"Don't jump to conclusions," he said. "It may just be his way of taking a shot at us. He knows that we don't want to go."

"But it could mean that he wants to get rid of us for four months."

"It could. Or it could be payback for you turning him into a gelding. It doesn't change things. Not much, anyway."

I took a moment to force myself into being objective.

He had a point.

Beemer hated us, or me at least, so it could just be his passive-aggressive way of getting revenge.

"You're right," I conceded.

"I'm not trying to be right," he said gently. "I just don't want us to get too focused on one person while the real culprit stays under the radar."

"I know," I replied.

We started walking again, heading for the stairwell.

"So," I continued. "Are you ready to proceed with Operation Gigolo?"

Bobby nearly choked on a laugh, and then he shook his head.

"Uh uh. We're not calling it that," he argued with a grin. "That would imply that there will be some sort of inappropriate touching going on, and believe me, there will be none of that."

"How do you know?" I asked as we went down the stairs to the fourth floor. "She could turn out to be the girl of your dreams."

"That's impossible. I already have the girl of my dreams."

"See? You are a smooth talker," I replied casually, even though his words had sparked a fluttering feeling in my stomach. "You'll do just fine with Agent Cyber Crimes."

"No, see that was just honesty," he said, leaning so close to me that I could smell his cologne. It was a heady scent that I'd been enjoying for years, and it was even better now that I knew I could bury my face against his chest and smell him any time I wanted to. Well, almost any time. I'd probably need to refrain from doing that when we were meeting with Maas or Moran. "For this little adventure, I'm going to have to lie my ass off."

"You'll be fine," I assured him.

"And what about you? How are you going to wheedle information out of Banta?" he asked me as he reached past me and opened up the door to let us out onto the fourth floor.

"I'm going to have to play that one by ear," I admitted. "It'll depend on his true motive for trying to provide you with a hook-up."

"Just make sure that you behave yourself," he teased.

"Agent Eames!"

It was Agent Lacey, with whom we'd worked on that rapist case.

"SAC Casteel just called down," she continued. "He said that he needs to speak with you in his office."

"I just came from there," I replied, glancing at Bobby in confusion. He shrugged and looked slightly concerned.

"I'm just the messenger," Lacey said, and then she continued down the hall to a conference room. She paused at the door and looked back at us. "Oh, and you two are mine for the next case. Come on, Goren. I'll get started briefing you while Eames goes upstairs."

"What am I going to do if he's made arrangements to send me to Quantico?" I muttered after Lacey went into the conference room.

"If that's it, just go along with it for now," he said. "We'll come up with a family emergency or something if we need to."

"Okay," I said with a nod. That was a good plan. "Okay, I'll be right back."

So I left Bobby on the fourth floor and slipped back into the stairwell to go up to Casteel's fifth floor office.

My mind considered and rejected possible reasons for this encore meeting and then suddenly, I had it.

And I'd come up with it just in time.

I rounded the corner at the mid-floor landing and whirled around to find Beemer on my heels.

The man was quiet as a damn mouse, but fortunately, I was ready for him this time.

This time, I'd taken _him_ by surprise.

I brought my forearm up to his throat, and propelled him backwards until he was against the wall.

"I thought we'd try it like this for a change," I said to him, pushing my weight against him and effectively cutting off his windpipe. "Weren't you ordered to stay away from me?"

"Hang on," he rasped out. "I wasn't…I'm not…"

"You weren't what? Going to cop another cheap feel? What?"

"I…I…"

And yeah, okay, so maybe I was pushing a little too hard against his throat.

But my adrenaline was reaching astronomical levels and honestly, I'd had all I was going to take from this guy.

But still…it wouldn't do me any good to kill him. Yet. I needed to hear what he had to say.

"I know what you two are doing," he said when I relaxed my hold just a little bit. "You think it's me, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," he insisted. "And I can help you, but it's not safe for you to stay here."

"Yeah, I know," I retorted. "I seemed to have a propensity for getting jumped in the stairwell."

"Eames, listen to me," he said firmly. "I know that you have no reason to trust me."

"You're damn right I don't! You've harassed me from day one!"

We heard a door open on an upper floor and I released my hold on him and took two steps back, but I continued to glare at him as we heard the footsteps approaching.

"You set it up for me to be in here again, didn't you? Do I even need to bother going to see Casteel?"

And to my surprise, he reached into his pocket.

And since I didn't trust him for a second, I quickly launched myself at his arm, grabbing onto it with both hands and forcing him to keep his hand in his pocket. I had no idea what kind of weapon he might have in there.

"You're going to make a scene," he whispered harshly. "I don't want to be seen in here with you."

"You came to me, remember?"

The footsteps now sounded like they were directly above us. We probably only had a few more seconds before someone would come into view.

"You and Goren. Meet me and make sure that you're not followed," he said.

He shifted to the side to get away from my grasp and I let him go.

Surely he wouldn't shoot me in front of the pending witness.

And of course, he didn't. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it into my hand before moving past me and going down the stairs. I stood on the landing for another split second.

"Oh, Agent Eames. I haven't seen you in awhile."

It was Banta.

How convenient that I managed to run into both of our leading suspects within a five-second span in the same deserted stairwell.

That caused me to wonder about the possibility of there being more than one mole.

Could there be two agents working together?

Weapons trafficking was an extremely lucrative business and surely those involved could afford to buy off any number of members of law enforcement.

But then why hadn't we found any kind of money trail?

"Agent Eames?" he asked hesitantly, since I'd just continued to stand there without responding to his greeting. I closed my hand tightly around the slip of paper that Beemer had given me, and then casually stuck my hand in my pocket.

"Sorry," I said apologetically. "My mind was somewhere else."

"Not a problem. Are you going down?" he asked, offering to allow me to go in front of him.

Was I? Surely since I'd run into Beemer, that meant that the call for me to go to Casteel's office was fake, right?

"Yes," I said. I headed down the stairs and he fell into step beside me.

"So is everything okay? I mean, with you and Agent Goren? You seem a little…I don't know…sad."

"It's fine," I said quickly, and then I regrouped. Because maybe this was my in. So I hesitated before going through the door on the fourth floor and looked up at him shyly. "No, you know what? It's been…I don't know."

I capped off my vague statement with a deep sigh and then I looked at the floor for a minute before glancing back up to find him staring at me intently.

"It's harder than I thought it would be," I said in a conspiratorial voice.

"What is?"

"Working together…living together…I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like maybe I need someone else to talk to. Someone different. You know what I mean?"

I've always hated using my feminine wiles to get my way about something, but never let it be said that I don't know how to get the job done.

I flashed him a cautious smile and then tossed my hair back over my shoulder and tilted my head to one side as I continued to look at him.

"Sure I do," he agreed. He took a step closer to me. "It's always good to spread your wings a little. You know, you don't listen to the same song over and over again, do you?"

"What?"

And yeah, I knew exactly what he was saying, but…ew. I needed the extra minute to control my gag reflex.

"I'm saying…maybe you just need to change the station. Mix things up."

"Play a different song?"

"Exactly."

"I'll keep that in mind," I told him as I reached for the door handle. He put his hand on top of mine so that both of us were gripping the handle.

Only I was trying to turn it and he was trying to hold it still.

"You do that," he said quietly.

I finally won our battle on the door handle and the two of us left the stairwell.

I needed to get away from him as fast as possible, so I made a beeline for the conference room.

I was glad that we'd been assigned to Agent Lacey for the time being because Banta didn't work with her.

And even though I knew that I'd need to cozy up to him again to work him for information, I didn't have to do it right this minute.

I burst into the conference room and found Lacey conducting a presentation of the current case for Bobby and two other agents.

"Goren can get you up to speed after we finish," Lacey said when she saw me. "We need to move on this fairly quickly."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I took the seat next to Bobby.

The note from Beemer was burning a hole in my pocket, but I couldn't look at it just yet.

Bobby caught my eye, obviously aware that I was slightly frazzled, but I nodded at him encouragingly and shifted my focus to the power point on the wall.

Twenty minutes later, we were dismissed from the briefing.

"What happened?" Bobby asked me once we were in the hallway. I looked around to make sure that we were truly alone.

"Casteel didn't want me," I told him. "It was another one of Beemer's tricks."

"Okay, that's it," he said quickly, walking away from me toward the bullpen. "I'm done with him."

"No, wait!"

"Eames, I'm serious. He's taken it too far."

"He wants to meet with us."

"What? When? Why? Did he touch you?"

I smirked at his bevy of questions and pulled the piece of paper out of my pocket.

"No," I said, answering his last question. "I got the drop on him and slammed him into the wall."

"Oh," he replied with a nod. "Okay, good. So what's this?"

It took me a minute to open the paper that had been folded half a dozen times and when I did, it just had a time and an address on it.

_**Eight-thirty. 2457 Franklin Street Brooklyn**_.

"He wants us to meet him here," I said as I handed him the paper. "He told me that he knows what we're up to, and that we were wrong about him. He also said to make sure that we're not followed tonight."

"What do you think?"

"I think we call Maas," I said, keeping my voice low. "Because it could be a set-up."

"You think he wants to lure us there to kill us?"

"If he thinks we're getting close to the truth…"

"Let's call Logan, too," he said. "It's not that I don't trust Maas, but…"

"I know. I agree. An extra set of eyes watching our backs can't hurt."

I held his gaze as we both silently thought about the possible outcomes of this covert meeting.

Did Beemer really have information for us?

Was he innocent in all of this?

Or did he know that we were onto him and that it was only a matter of time before we busted this case wide open?

"So he really didn't touch you? Or hurt you?" Bobby asked me as we headed for the small conference room at the end of the hall that served as our office when we were in the building.

Casteel had determined that we weren't around enough to warrant requisitioning actual desks.

And that was fine with me.

I had a desk. It was at 1PP.

"He didn't, unless you count my arm embedded into his throat," I told him. "Trust me, I had the upper hand the entire time."

"I trust you," he agreed quickly. "I just worry."

"Oh, yeah, well, worry about this," I said with a roll of my eyes. "I ran into Banta, too."

I told him about what had happened with the smarmy agent.

"What, is the stairwell the hotspot for clandestine conversations?"

"Apparently. But I managed to convince him that I was spending entirely too much time with you, so I'm betting that he's going to be hitting you up soon for your thing with the cyber woman."

"He compared being with me to listening to the same song?"

"I think he thought he was being poignant," I said with a shrug.

We sat down at the table and pulled out the file that Lacey had given us.

"Too much time with me," he commented quietly. "I guess it wasn't too hard to make up that one, huh?"

"Don't do that," I chastised. And because our chairs were close, I pushed my leg against his. "You're going to be making up stories, too."

"I just want to make sure that you're making it up," he said. "It's not like you've had any time for other friends or family or anything in the past six months. It's just been me."

"Do you see me complaining?"

"You're much too professional for that."

"I'm not going to say that I don't miss my family," I agreed. "But Bobby, six months…six years…sixty years. There's no such thing as too much time with you."

"Are you sure?"

"I love this song," I told him, running my hand over his beard. "It's the only one I ever need to hear again."

TBC...


	19. Chapter 19

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Alex and I were both distracted for most of the day Monday.

We simply wanted to skip ahead to our meeting with Beemer, but of course, it didn't work like that.

First, we'd had to analyze the evidence on Agent Lacey's case. And quite honestly, it was a pretty boring case.

Tax evasion.

I'd questioned her as to why she'd pulled a White Collar crimes case, but she didn't have an answer for me.

"I take what the boss gives me," she'd replied with a shrug.

So not only were we distracted but we were bored to tears, too.

And then at lunch, when all I wanted to do was get Alex alone so that we could discuss theories about the latest development in our real case, instead Banta had called me.

"She wants to meet with you," he'd told me.

"Who?" I'd asked as I rolled my eyes at Alex and mouthed Banta's name.

"Agent Hooker."

Because yeah, that was her name.

Alex had had a field day with that one.

"Her name is Hooker? What's her first name? Ima?"

"It's Dreama, actually," I'd told her with a grin.

Dreama Hooker.

What kind of parents would do that to their daughter?

So anyway, Banta had said that Hooker wanted to meet me for lunch, and that I should take Alex to the diner down the block and he'd take care of everything else.

"What did he mean by that?" she'd asked me. "He'll take care of it how?"

Turned out, what he did was call Alex.

"Casteel needs you," he'd said.

Which apparently in the Bureau was code for getting someone alone.

Alex and I had just sat down together at a booth in the diner so we hadn't even had a chance to start any kind of discussion.

"I guess that's my cue," she'd said on a sigh. "And I suppose the hooker is lurking somewhere nearby to take my place."

"No one will ever take your place."

She put both of her hands on my face and kissed me firmly before getting up from the booth.

"I'll see you back at work," she'd said. "Be careful."

"You, too," I'd asserted.

She'd been gone for all of five minutes when Agent Hooker came into the diner.

"Agent Goren! I thought I might find you here. Do you mind if I sit down?"

And I'll be honest. She was a nice enough looking woman.

But I had a hard time even feigning interest.

I was strictly a one-woman man these days.

But I managed to get through the lunch and I even told her that I'd love to stop by her office some time and see her work.

Because I was fascinated with computer technology.

She actually bought it, which had me concerned about her level of intelligence, but whatever.

If she wanted to dazzle me with her ability to hack the Bureau files then I was going to let her do it.

Because I wanted to know everything there was to know about Beemer.

And Banta.

And even Rivas, because even though we'd moved him off of our short list, we still needed to check him out.

Just because he was married, didn't mean he wasn't above swindling some poor unsuspecting HR secretary into giving up information.

_Just like I was doing to Agent Hooker_, I reminded myself.

Although I wasn't exactly married, but…I may as well be.

Because like I said, Alex was it for me.

I'd met Alex back at work and found her to be in a foul mood.

"What happened?" I'd asked her.

"Banta pounced on me as soon as I left the diner," she'd told me.

"Pounced? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean he talked my damn ear off for the whole hour. About himself. We don't need your cheap little friend to look up anything on him because I can tell you every damn thing about him," she'd said as she paced around the conference room. "He lives in an apartment with a great view of the river. He grew up in Kentucky, but he always knew that he was meant for bigger and better things. He went to some podunk school in the back woods and managed to get himself a scholarship to UT-Chat, but he didn't stop there, and do you know why?"

"Because he was meant for bigger and better things?" I'd asked cautiously.

"Right. Because he's God's gift to women. So he broke the heart of every woman in Tennessee by moving to New York to go to graduate school. At which point the FBI actively recruited him because they knew that he had what it takes to be a top agent, maybe even the director some day. And oh yeah, he has a black belt in karate and he won the regional spelling bee back in bumfuck Kentucky when he was in the third grade."

She'd finished her tirade and stood staring at me, her eyes flashing in irritation and I felt a resurgence of love for her.

It was crazy, really, that her explosion of temper made me love her more, but it did.

She was real and she was passionate.

And she was mine.

"So, how was your date?" she'd asked me hotly. "Did you get lucky?"

"Uh…no, but I did get invited to come and see her in action." She narrowed her eyes at me and I'd quickly added, "On the computer. She wants me to come to her office some time."

"Which is why we're doing all of this," she'd said as she expelled a deep breath. "I know, and I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. It was just…that guy was really…"

"Sounds like it," I'd agreed, referencing her non-verbal sound of disgust. "But it sounds like you got some interesting information."

"I don't think he's really a black belt," she'd said with a shake of her head.

"I mean about the apartment. Do you think he really has a place with a great view of the river?"

"I don't know," she'd replied, but then she nodded her head when she realized where I was going. "And how in the hell can he afford that on a government salary when he obviously doesn't come from money?"

"Right."

"I didn't even catch that," she'd said, switching the focus of her annoyance to herself instead of Banta. "I got so irritated with him, and then I kept thinking about what you were doing, and…I'm sorry."

"You were worried about me?" I'd asked her, and since we were alone, I'd reached out and traced my fingers down the length of her arm. "You should know better."

"I know," she'd said. "I do. But still…"

The rest of the afternoon, we worked on Lacey's case. Then at four-thirty, we went to her office to give her an update and then we were excused for the day.

"You two have a nice night, and I'll see you in the morning," Lacey had said as we'd left her office.

Huh. If she only knew.

I mean, it started out nice enough.

Really nice, in fact.

Alex reasserted her claim on me as soon as we walked into the apartment. I knew that it had been building, so I wasn't surprised when she went immediately over to the bookshelf.

"I think I'm going to read a little bit before dinner," she said as she picked up books at random, glanced at them and then put them back on the shelf.

And yeah, even though we hadn't tried this little trick yet, I still knew what she was about to do.

I was hard just watching her.

Because after another minute, she picked up the book that had the camera in the spine.

"Are you sure you want to read?" I asked her as she flipped through the pages.

"Why, did you have a better idea?" she retorted.

"As a matter of fact…" I began, and then I walked over to her and took the book from her hands, setting it back on the shelf, only now it was horizontal. With the camera facing the back of the shelf. "I think that I have a much better idea."

And even though I was the forceful one in our little show for the camera, once we turned that book around, she took over.

"You always have the best ideas," she said as she turned on the radio so as to help drown out our voices.

Then she walked me backwards, quickly undoing my tie as the backs of my knees hit the sofa.

She pushed on my chest, sitting me down, and then immediately straddled my lap and started kissing me.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" I whispered into her ear before I grabbed onto the lobe with my teeth.

"We just did this yesterday," she reminded me softly. "In the bath tub."

"No, I mean on this couch," I explained.

My words caused her to pause for a moment, where she'd been unbuttoning my shirt. She looked at me curiously.

"You have a thing for couches?"

"I have a thing for you. And this is where I was the first time I…well…you know."

I wasn't sure why I couldn't say the word masturbate when I presently had both of my hands down the back of her pants and she was sitting pressed up against my erection, but for some reason, I couldn't.

I didn't need to, though.

She caught my drift.

"How old is this couch?" she teased as she resumed her efforts to remove my shirt.

"I don't mean ever," I said on a laugh. "I mean while thinking about _you_."

That stopped her again.

"You thought about me…like that?" she asked in surprise.

"All of the time," I confessed. I hoped that she wasn't mad to learn that I'd done that, but she didn't seem to be. In fact, she seemed to like that idea quite a bit.

"Right here on this couch?" she asked with a smile.

"Uh huh," I replied, and I got her to move enough so that I could slide her pants down off of her legs and then she divested me of mine before she reclaimed her spot on my lap.

"I had no idea," she admitted. "So tell me. What would I do?"

She pulled my shirt from my arms and slowly ran her fingers across my chest, working in a steady downward motion.

"Pretty much exactly what you're doing," I told her.

"Pretty much?"

"Well, you know…you are kind of bossy, so…" I teased.

"You imagined me giving you orders?"

"More like directives. Explicit instructions," I elaborated.

And then I let out a low moan as she settled down onto me.

"You want me to talk dirty to you," she concluded as she began a slow, tortuous pace. I ran my hands up her back and into her hair, pulling her down for a kiss before I responded.

"Well, it was just a fantasy," I told her. "It's not like…"

"Bobby," she interrupted.

And then she leaned down and started whispering in my ear.

And let me tell you, I have a pretty damn good imagination.

But my mental estimation of the things she might say and exactly the effect it would have on me...well, let's just say that my imagination wasn't even close. She was _really_ good at talking dirty.

So yeah, our evening started off with a bang.

But then we had to get back to business.

I'd called Maas earlier in the day, and Logan as well.

"You guys are into some serious shit, aren't you?" Logan had asked me when I'd requested his assistance. "I mean, of course I'll watch your back, but what exactly do you think is going to happen?"

"We don't know. That's the thing. He could be a good guy offering information on the sly or he could be the bad guy and he's setting us up."

"Am I your only back up?"

"We've got one guy from the department."

And then I'd laid out our plan for him.

The address that Beemer had given us was for a bar in Brooklyn. Alex and I were going to wait inside the bar.

We'd go early enough to make sure that we were there first. Then we could watch from inside and assess the threat level.

Maas would be watching from a location across the street.

Logan would be in the alley, watching the back exit.

It was an extremely dangerous scenario, but we couldn't pass it up.

This could be what we'd been working towards for the past six months.

So at seven-thirty, Alex and I found a seat in the bar where we were far enough in the back not to be seen from outside, and yet we had a good look at the front door.

"Are you in position?" I asked Logan.

"I'm here. It's quiet."

I'd had to tell Maas about Logan. He wasn't crazy about bringing in a civilian, but ultimately he'd agreed to it. Because we needed more help and we still weren't sure who else we could trust.

Moran didn't exactly do field work anymore. I'd considered asking Nichols, but I didn't know his new partner at all and I wasn't sure what kind of a leash she had him on. I didn't need anyone's suspicions raised.

"How does it look up front?" I asked Maas.

"I see Beemer," he said. "He's coming down the street. He's almost to the door."

"Is he clean?"

"I think so…no, wait."

Alex and I each held our breath as we waited to get the status report from Maas. No one opened the door to the bar, but we both watched it intently.

And then we heard gunfire.

"Get out of there!" Maas yelled. "Go out the back!"

Alex hopped up from the booth and headed for the back hallway.

I was right on her heels, but I made one quick glance over my shoulder and saw that the front door was opening up.

"Beemer is down," Maas reported. "The shooter is coming inside."

I couldn't make out the individual who was entering, because he was wearing a dark jacket with a cap pulled down over his eyes, but I saw his head move from side to side, searching the establishment.

I turned back around and followed Alex out of the door and into the alley. Logan was near the end waving us towards him.

"Did he see you?" Logan asked, looking past us back toward the rear exit.

"I don't know. I don't think so," I replied.

But the words had no sooner left my mouth when the back door came flying open.

The three of us turned and ran as four shots echoed through the alleyway.

We turned a corner into another alley, only this one had a chain-link fence at the end of it.

"Shit," Logan grunted as looked around for a crate to help us get over the top.

I quickly bent over and locked my hands for Alex to use as a step. She was up and over the ten foot fence in a matter of seconds.

Logan tossed a vegetable box on the ground.

"Go," he ordered. "You can't let them see you or your cover's blown."

He was right, so I didn't argue.

We were obviously close to something here. And Beemer hadn't been the bad guy.

But he must have known who the responsible party was and he was going to tell us so that we could catch him.

Only now I had a feeling that Beemer wasn't going to be doing much talking.

Logan pulled out his gun, firing off a couple of rounds in the direction from which we'd come while I climbed over the fence.

"Come on!" I called out once I was over.

He tucked his gun away and hopped up onto the crate and then scaled the fence.

"You two sure know how to show a guy a good time," he retorted as he jumped down.

"Get out of there!" Maas shouted again. "Three more are in pursuit!"

"We're going as fast as we can," I answered.

"Get around to 2nd and I'll pick you up! Go, go, go!"

We hustled down that alley, around another corner, and then came out onto 2nd Street just as a black sedan came barreling straight for us.

"I sure hope that's Maas," Alex muttered as the car screeched to a stop next to us.

The passenger door came flying open.

"Get in!" he yelled at us.

Our pursuers rounded the last corner at that moment and once again started firing at us. Alex whipped open the back door and the two of us dove into the backseat of the car while Logan jumped in the front. Maas pulled away before we even had the doors closed.

"What the hell happened?" Alex asked as he sped down the street.

"Beemer's dead," Maas told us. "Someone must have found out that he was going to talk to you two."

"Us specifically? Or someone?" I asked him.

Because it made a difference.

A _huge_ difference.

If Beemer had stumbled onto information that he was going to turn over to _someone,_ then me and Alex were still safe.

If whoever was after us knew that it was _us_…well, then we could very well be next on the list.

TBC...


	20. Chapter 20

**Bobby POV**

* * *

An hour after the shooting in Brooklyn, I found myself in Logan's apartment.

Maas had suggested that we not go home.

As if I would even consider that.

We needed to be sure that no one was after us before we went back to our place, and if it was a fed who was after us, then Eames' place wasn't safe either because they'd have that address.

"You can stay at my place," Maas had offered.

And even though I appreciated the gesture, I couldn't imagine spending the next however many hours under his watchful eye.

"Thank you," Alex had deflected. "But we don't want to put your wife out. Besides, we've stayed at Logan's before."

"You have?" he'd asked as he looked back and forth between the two of us.

My mind raced in an effort to decide whether that information would be incriminating or not.

Couldn't we have just stayed there to escape the surveillance?

It didn't have to mean anything sordid.

Did it?

"They've needed a break from time to time," Logan supplied. "And no one knows I exist, so…"

"Okay," Maas had said with a nod. "Well, as long as you two don't go home…"

"No," Alex had agreed. "Definitely not."

"That'll work then. Stay at Logan's for tonight, and then tomorrow you can go to work as if you have no idea about what happened. But keep your eyes and ears open, okay? This is it. It's all coming to a head. Hell, you two could be back in the department before Christmas."

I glanced over at Alex.

_At least he was still thinking about bringing us back…_

So Maas had dropped us off at Logan's. We'd gone inside, where each of us had promptly downed a few shots of Jack in an effort to tamp down the adrenaline, and then Alex and I had headed for the spare room.

It was still fairly early, but considering all that had happened, well…I just wanted to get under the covers.

Unfortunately, as soon as we stripped down and climbed into the bed, we heard a knock on the bedroom door.

"What is it?" I called out.

But Logan didn't answer. Instead, he opened the door and poked his head in while keeping his hand over his eyes. I'm not sure what he thought he might be interrupting, but I did appreciate his respect.

"Moran's at the door."

"What?" Alex said, very nearly yelling her response.

"That's why I didn't want to shout through the door," Logan explained. "He's knocking on the front door."

"You can look," I told Logan, since he was still standing there with his hand over his eyes. He dropped his hand and looked at us where we were lying in the tiny bed.

"I'm betting that Maas told him about what happened. I can stall him for another minute, but…"

"Yeah, okay," Alex said. "Get out. We'll be right there."

She threw the covers back as soon as Logan left the room and the two of us hurriedly got dressed.

"I can't believe Moran came here," she muttered as she took it a step further and put on her shoes and socks.

"Well, let's go find out what he wants."

We left the room and found Logan in the foyer with his hand on the knob. He waited for a nod from us and then he opened the door.

"Detective Logan," Moran said in greeting. "I'm looking for…oh, Goren. And Eames. I'm just…I'm sorry to barge in on you guys, but…I spoke with Maas and…can I come in?"

"Yes sir," Logan replied. "And it's not detective anymore. Unfortunately, it's just plain Logan."

"I heard that you had applied for an opening in Nassau, didn't you?" Moran questioned, and I was surprised that he knew about that. It had been over the summer, and Logan hadn't gotten the job, so the fact that Moran knew it was a little baffling.

"I did," he said. "But the DA there has apparently blackballed me, so…"

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. If I remember correctly, you were a damn fine detective."

"Well, thank you sir. I appreciate that."

"What can we do for you, Chief?" Alex asked him. She and I were standing with about four feet of space between us but for some reason I still felt as though he somehow just knew that only minutes ago I'd had my hand running over her bare back.

"I wanted to talk with the two of you," he said, casting a glance toward Logan.

"Oh, hey. Go ahead. I'm going to head for bed anyway. Bobby, Alex, I'll catch you two in the morning."

Logan went down the hallway and left the three of us alone.

"It's kind of a small place, isn't it?" Moran asked randomly.

And what he wasn't saying was…_where the hell are you two sleeping_?

"It has a spare room," Alex said. "Goren sleeps on the couch. We've used this place a couple of times. You know, just to get away from the cameras."

"The couch, huh?'

"Yes sir," I assured him.

I followed his gaze as he looked around the room, and then I watched as his eyes settled on a folded up blanket and pillow along the far wall.

_Logan was a freaking genius._

Moran gave an understanding nod and then looked back at me.

"Okay then. Um…well, I'm thinking that maybe we should pull the plug on this investigation."

"What?" Alex said in alarm. "With all due respect, sir, I think that's a bad idea."

"Agent Beemer was just gunned down on the street," he reminded us. "Captain Ross was murdered, too. I can't let this continue and run the risk of that happening to the two of you."

"We're close," I told him. "And we've already invested so much time into this."

"I know," he said. "But…"

He trailed off with a sigh and sat down on the couch. I sat in a chair across from him, and Alex sat down on the other end of the sofa.

It felt weird, sitting here like this with him.

He was in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. He just looked like any guy as opposed to the Chief of D's.

_Except that he was the guy who held our future in his hands_.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he continued. "If Beemer was going to give you information, and the mole followed him there…they may very well know what you two are up to."

"Or it could be that they suspected _him_ of something," Alex suggested. "It wasn't just one guy. There were four of them."

"And Hassan has a lot of men," Moran reminded us.

"I don't think anyone saw us," I interjected.

"They wouldn't have had to get a close look," Moran argued. "A six-four man with a five-two female partner with long blonde hair...it wouldn't take a genius."

"No one saw us until we were outside in the alley," Alex told him. "And it was dark, and we were with Logan by then, so the assumption would've been that Beemer was meeting with three people. And I had my hair up."

Which was true. She'd had it in a bun.

Only ten minutes ago, I'd pulled out the restrictive band to set it free.

What can I say? I like running my fingers through it.

"So you can confidently say that you don't feel as if your cover has been compromised?" Moran asked, and now he was looking at me.

I knew what he was asking.

Was I sure enough to risk Alex's safety?

"Yes," I said. "And we'll do as Maas suggested. We'll go in to the federal building tomorrow and act as though we have no idea of what happened. We'll let someone tell us, and if either of us gets a bad vibe from anyone, we'll call it quits. Right, Eames?"

And yeah, I'd almost said Alex.

Because as hard as it had been in the beginning to get used to calling her Alex, it was equally as hard to remember now to call her Eames.

"Right," she agreed. "It's not like they're going to pull off a hit inside of the federal building. We'll be safe to go into work."

"Okay," Moran agreed carefully. "But don't be the hero. I don't need two more dead cops on my hands. If this thing is a wash, then it's a wash. I can have you two back in MCS by next Monday."

"So we're still…" I questioned, unable to resist getting a little bit of confirmation from him that we'd still be welcomed back into the department.

"Absolutely," he assured me. And he almost looked offended that I'd even asked.

He stood up from the couch then and cast another glance in the direction of the makeshift bedding that was piled next to the wall.

"Okay then," he continued. "I'm sorry to bother you in your down time. I'm glad that you're both okay, and…well, I'll wait to hear from you tomorrow. Check in with Maas at noon and give him an update. Or sooner if you need us, okay?"

"Yes sir," I said, standing up as well and shaking his hand. He held out an envelope to me and added, "Just in case you need an alibi."

"For tonight?"

"It wouldn't be the first time the feds took a hard look at you, would it?"

The man had a point. I accepted the envelope and then he gave a sharp nod to Alex before leaving the apartment.

"That was…unexpected," Alex mumbled after he'd gone.

"He's worried. I think he feels somewhat responsible for what happened to Ross."

"Uh huh," she agreed. "Do you really believe what you told him? That we're not in any danger?"

"No," I admitted. I locked up the door and then turned to Alex and put my arm around her shoulders, guiding her down the hall to the spare room. "But I know that we can handle it."

The next morning, we tuned into the news before heading for the federal building, but there was no report about Beemer.

In fact, the word was that an unidentified man had been shot during an apparent drug deal.

I was really anxious to find out what the federal party line was going to be.

"Goren!" Stahl said sharply when Alex and I arrived on the fourth floor. "I need you and Eames in my office."

We followed her down the hall to her office and after we went inside, she closed the door behind us.

"I'm guessing that you heard about Agent Beemer," she said.

Alex and I looked at each other blankly and then turned back to Stahl.

"No," I said. "What about him?"

"He's dead," she said without emotion.

The brusqueness with which she delivered the news suggested that she was not interested in sympathy.

"What happened?" Alex asked her.

Stahl sighed heavily and walked around her desk.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room," she began. At our sounds of agreement, she continued. "We think that he was a double agent. It's possible that he was the leak who caused Ross to be killed."

"Beemer?" Alex questioned with calculated surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"I can't go into detail with you right now. But he's being investigated. There are agents at his apartment right now."

Was he dirty?

Were those agents going to find stacks upon stacks of video tapes documenting the last several months of footage from our apartment? Of course, it was probably all digital now, but still…was Beemer the one who'd been watching us?

And if he had been watching, ostensibly for the purpose of determining whether or not we were investigating Ross' death, had he found out our real purpose?

Or was he simply an easy fall guy?

Had he stumbled onto the truth and now they were using his death to create a scapegoat?

"We can help with that," Alex offered. "I mean, if he was into something like that, it might help having people investigate who weren't close to him."

"No," Stahl said quickly. "I appreciate your offer. Really, I do. And I might have taken you up on it, but Agent Lacey needs you right now and Casteel has asked me to give her what she wants."

"The tax evasion case?" I asked in disbelief. "That's not really our area of expertise. Surely our skills would be more beneficial…"

"Not tax evasion," she interrupted. "Lacey picked up a new one late last night. The tax thing has been moved to the back burner."

"Oh," Alex said. "What is it then?"

"Lacey can brief you fully. You'll need to report to her office as soon as you leave here. It was actually supposed to be my case, but…once the news about Beemer came in, well…they like to bench an agent at times like this."

"When you're partner's been killed," I clarified, and I was again amazed by her composure.

Was it an act?

Or had she disliked him?

Or had she suspected him of wrongdoing?

"That's right," she said, and she finally sat down in her chair.

She looked exhausted and she stared at the floor for a minute before taking a deep breath and bringing her eyes back up to meet mine.

Okay, so maybe she was more upset than I'd realized.

"So go see Lacey," she went on tiredly. "Federal assistance has been requested for a case in White Plains."

"What's going on there?"

"Some guy is killing prostitutes and their johns at various roadside motels."

I could literally feel Alex's annoyance even though we were several feet apart.

"So she wants to use us as undercovers?" Alex asked Stahl, barely able to mask her distaste.

"I know," Stahl said with a wave of her hand. "And I'm sorry. I'd actually agreed to do this one, but Casteel said no. And Lacey can't do it, because well…honestly, no one would believe that she's a hooker."

"While I, on the other hand, can pull that off easily," Alex said snidely.

"Hey, you're an undercover specialist, right?" Stahl asked sharply. "This is the job. Take it or leave it."

"You're right," Eames said with a shake of her head. "I think I'm just still a little shaken by this whole thing with Beemer. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Stahl said, instantly apologetic. "It's always difficult to learn of a colleague getting killed. I'm…yeah, I think I'm in a little bit of denial myself. But…the world keeps turning, right? And psychos keep killing johns whose pants are around their ankles, so…"

"We'll go see Lacey," Alex said. "Let us know how it goes here, okay?"

"I will. Be careful, Agents."

We left Stahl's office and headed down the hall to find Agent Lacey.

"They think Beemer's dirty," Alex said quietly. "What do you think?"

"I'd really like to get a look in his apartment," I said. "Do you think it's coincidence that they're sending us on another case?"

"Like they want to get rid of us? I don't know. I would think so, but we have been doing a lot of work with Lacey and this case…well, I guess it's another one of those times where they want agents who are comfortable with each other."

"You're going to have to literally watch my ass," I stated. "Since I'll be the one with my pants around my ankles."

"Well, at least in White Plains, we'll only need to watch out for one serial killer," she reasoned, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

I knew what she meant.

Leaving town for a few days might not be a bad idea until we could obtain more information.

Because right now, even though on the surface it seemed as though maybe our investigation was over, truthfully, if Beemer was on our side and then four guys were after him, well…maybe this thing ran deeper than we'd thought.

"As opposed to here," I replied with a nod. "Where we have no idea from which direction the danger will come."

TBC...


	21. Chapter 21

**Alex POV**

* * *

After leaving Stahl, Bobby and I went to Lacey's office where she pounced on us immediately.

"We don't have a lot of time to dick around with briefings," she told us in her no-nonsense manner. "The locals think they know what floats this guy's boat. And you can see why I needed you two. I mean, there aren't too many agents who would be willing to go that extra mile for a bust."

"Extra mile?" I questioned as she bustled around her desk, gathering files and shoving them into her briefcase.

"You know, the down on the knees thing."

I glanced at Bobby and he raised his eyebrows at me but just shrugged.

"Down on the knees?" I asked cautiously.

She stopped and looked at us, expelling a heavy sigh.

"Stahl didn't tell you?"

"No. She mentioned something about prostitutes and johns in White Plains. She said you'd fill us in on the rest."

"She is such a chicken shit," she muttered with a shake of her head. "Sorry. I thought she was going to give you details."

"No," I said firmly. "She didn't. So will you?"

"Apparently, our guy gets off on watching the hookers perform oral sex. While on their knees. After the show, he storms the room, shoots the man and then forces the woman to give an encore performance at gunpoint."

It's not often that I'm rendered speechless, but at the moment, all words were escaping me.

"So the plan is…" Bobby said hesitantly.

I was sure that he didn't much care for the scenario either. He'd been kidding when he joked about having his pants around his ankles, but apparently it was going to be pretty accurate.

"You'll have a gun in your pocket," she told him. "The two of you will go into the room, around to the far side of the bed where you won't be completely visible. Goren, you'll drop your pants while Eames, you get down on your knees in front of him. So you can see why I was having trouble drafting people for this one, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed with a nod.

"Anyway," she continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You'll be able to grab onto the gun – and yeah, I know. Insert your own joke here, right?"

She laughed at herself, but Bobby and I just stood there and looked at her. I was trying to picture this scenario that she was describing. And this was going to be on surveillance footage.

"So, you grab his service weapon," Lacey continued. "And you keep it in your hand, below the height of the bed. Do your performance, yadda, yadda, yadda, and then hopefully our guy will come in and aim for Goren, at which point you, Eames, will take him out. And of course, there will be back-up in place, but we can't be too close because we don't want to spook the guy. Okay, so we're good to go?"

"Um…"

"Agent Eames?"

Agent McHale was sticking her head in the doorway of Lacey's office.

"Yes?"

"SAC Casteel needs to see you right away."

"Are you sure?" I asked her, because by now I'd had enough of people using his name as a ploy.

"I just left his office. He told me to come down and find you."

"Go, Eames," Lacey said. "I'll finish bringing Goren up to speed and we'll meet you in the parking garage. I want to get out of here in thirty minutes."

I caught Bobby's eye briefly, expressing my concern at both the unexpected summons to Casteel's office and our latest assignment.

We held each other's eye for a minute.

_Take the elevator_, his look said.

"How can we be sure that he'll be watching us?" Bobby was asking Lacey as I left. "We could go through this scenario every night for a year and not have him stumble across us."

_Very good question_, I thought as I headed down the hall.

And I didn't need him to tell me not to take the stairs, although I did appreciate his concern.

I went to the SAC's office and knocked on the door. To my surprise, it was opened by Agent Banta.

"Agent Eames," Casteel said from his position behind his desk. "Come in."

"I'm…um…Agent McHale said that you wanted to speak with me."

I walked fully into the office and Banta closed the door behind me. Rivas was seated along the far wall, and Bourque and Workman were sitting in chairs across from Casteel.

"I do," Casteel confirmed sharply. "And what I'd like to know is where you were last night between the hours of six and nine."

"I wasn't on duty," I said with a growing feeling of unease.

"I am aware of that."

"So I'm not sure how it's any of the Bureau's business," I stated, doing my best to maintain a respectful attitude.

What in the hell was going on here?

I felt like I was being ambushed and yet I had no idea why.

"Surely by now you've heard about Agent Beemer's murder."

_Oh my God_.

"Yes sir."

"Good. So I'm going to ask you again. Where were you last night?"

"You think that it was me?" I asked him incredulously. "Well, that's just crazy. Why in the world would I want to kill him?"

And yeah, okay, I could think of a couple of reasons, but still…

"We have a witness who identified the killer as someone five-six or less."

"So I'm a suspect because I'm short?"

"You're a suspect because of an incident that occurred between you and the victim earlier in the day yesterday. In the stairwell. It has been suggested that you displayed obvious hostility. Aside from that, you and Agent Beemer have a history together, so it stands to reason…"

"A history together?"

"He told me about it," Banta said with a nod.

"Told you about what?" I asked.

This whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"Agent Eames," Casteel said sharply. "Do you or do you not have an alibi for last night?"

"Yes," I replied. "I do."

I suddenly loved Moran more than I ever thought possible.

Because I'd thought that it had been silly and paranoid for him to even consider it, but apparently he'd been right.

"Goren and I had dinner in Manhattan."

"Dinner," Banta said cynically. "What time? I don't suppose that you have a receipt?"

"We finished up around eight," I told him. "And I'm sure that I do have the receipt, yes."

Because that's what Moran had given to Bobby.

"Well?"

"Not on me," I told him crossly. "But I'm sure it's in my purse. I'll get it."

Casteel nodded amenably while Banta continued to glare at me.

"So what happened in the stairwell?" Rivas asked. I'd almost forgotten that others were in the room, but I definitely didn't like feeling like I was in the hot seat.

And I had to wonder where this was coming from.

Was it someone in this room who had killed Beemer? Is that why they were trying to cast the blame onto me?

Or were they following real leads?

Because objectively, I guess I could understand why they had to ask me about it.

We did have an altercation, and the idea that the shooter was short combined with that knowledge…well, I could understand the questions.

I didn't like them, but…

"Did the witness say that it was a woman?" I asked them suddenly.

"She couldn't tell."

"She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman?"

"The shooter was dressed in loose, dark clothing and wore a baseball cap. So it could've been a man," Casteel told me.

"Or it could've been a woman with her hair tucked under the cap," Banta added.

"Do you want to check me for GSR?" I asked him hotly. "I'd be more than happy to submit to a test."

"That won't be necessary," Casteel assured me, although it looked as though Banta was going to take me up on it.

Which meant _what?_

He either didn't know the identity of the killer, or he was going to attempt to fabricate the lab results.

I was going in circles here.

"Agent Eames, what happened in the stairwell?"

I expelled an annoyed breath and forced myself not to roll my eyes.

"Agent Beemer followed me into the stairwell. After the incident last summer, I wasn't going to take any chances with him, so I pushed him against the wall and asked him why he was following me."

I had to be mostly honest because I wasn't sure how much they knew. No one had specifically mentioned security footage, but yet they knew about the incident.

Had Banta been listening?

We'd spoken quietly so I couldn't imagine that he would've heard anything.

"And what did he say?"

"That he wanted to apologize. He didn't want there to be continued tension between us."

"That's it?"

"That's it. He said that sometime he'd like to get together with me and Goren. You know, to make up for how he treated us in the beginning."

"So he wasn't hitting on you?" Banta asked. "He wasn't trying to rekindle…"

"Rekindle?" I interrupted. "There's nothing to…what did he tell you?"

"Beemer said that the two of you had a relationship before you got involved with Goren."

My shock rendered me speechless for the second time today, but it turned out to be a good thing. The denial that I wanted to shout as loudly as possible never came out.

Instead, I took a moment to consider that.

Why would Beemer say that?

Was it because someone didn't trust me, and he was trying to cover for me? Was he truly on the right side?

If he'd said it for a reason, and I debunked his claim, then would that make the real mole once again suspicious that I was hunting him?

I needed to get out of this office.

I needed a stiff drink.

And I needed Bobby.

We had some thinking to do about this latest turn of events.

"Sir, am I excused?" I asked Casteel. "Agent Lacey is waiting for me so that we can go up to White Plains. I will be sure to get you my dinner receipt from last night to confirm my alibi. As far as my relationship with Beemer prior to my employment with the FBI, I can't see how that's relevant."

Casteel stared at me for a minute, but then gave me a sharp nod, so I left his office without another word to anyone and met Bobby in the parking garage. Agents Lacey and McHale were with him.

"McHale's going to work this one with us," Lacey said, as though I expected an explanation.

"Okay," I replied. I liked McHale. She was very competent and professional.

"Yeah, I didn't want you to worry about…you know, who might be watching the surveillance."

Ah…right. I'd forgotten about that.

I was going to get to simulate giving oral sex.

"I appreciate that," I told her sincerely.

"What happened?" Bobby asked me quietly as Lacey tossed our duffle bags into the back of the SUV.

"They accused me of killing Beemer," I told him.

"They what?"

"I know," I agreed. "I'm glad Moran gave us his dinner receipt. It was smart of him to pay in cash. Although if anyone goes up there to interview the wait staff…"

"They won't go that far."

"I didn't think they'd go _this_ far. They knew that I ran into Beemer in the stairwell. And for some reason, Beemer told Banta that he'd had a relationship with me."

"Are you two ready?" Lacey asked, interrupting any further speculation.

Bobby and I got into the back seat for the drive to White Plains.

"So how will we know that he'll come after us?" I asked aloud once we were on the road. "And how will we know which motel? Hasn't he killed in several different locations?"

"The locals haven't figured out his routine yet," Lacey answered. "That's our job. And once we do, you two can lure him in and do your thing."

Lacey and McHale started talking amongst themselves, so I leaned a little closer to Bobby and said, "Supposedly, Beemer's shooter is short. Around five-six, maybe less."

"I honestly didn't notice that, but I only caught a glimpse of him. Although Maas didn't say anything about that either," he replied. "We should ask him."

"You think they're making it up?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But they wanted to put the heat on you for some reason. I mean, they could've called me in but they didn't."

I nodded slowly as I tried to sort through the latest bevy of evidence.

"And why would Beemer mention a relationship?" Bobby asked. "You hate him. Everyone at the Bureau knows that."

"Which maybe lends itself to perpetuate the lie," I suggested. "Why would I hate him so much unless it was personal?"

"So we just need to know why he lied. Was it just to make himself look like a stud? Or was it to protect you?"

"You know, Banta was in Casteel's office. The whole team was there with the exception of Stahl and McHale."

"Another good question. Were the women absent intentionally? Or was it because McHale was ready to start this case with us and Stahl is benched?"

"The more we learn, the more questions we have," I muttered. "Maas said we'd be back by Christmas. I'm starting to wonder if we'll ever get back."

TBC...


	22. Chapter 22

**Bobby POV **

* * *

It took us two weeks to figure out the killer's pattern.

But once we had it, it only took another day to catch him.

It went smoothly, just like Lacey had said that it would.

Because our guy had a routine.

He would check into a motel, and then go back to the office and complain about it so that they would switch his room.

We figured that he was stashing a webcam in the original room somewhere, and then he would go to the new room and watch the events on his computer screen.

The motels he was selecting were frequented by prostitutes, so it wouldn't take him very long to come across what he was looking for.

And of course, his background was a whole sob story.

Whose wasn't?

His mom had left when he was little and he'd been raised by a father who appreciated the company of hookers and addicts.

Apparently, he'd been subjected to witnessing his father's sexual activity on more than one occasion and now he was living out the fantasy of how he would've _liked_ for things to have happened.

He wished that he could've interrupted his father, killed him, and then forced himself on the woman, thus showing her that he was far superior to his old man.

But instead of that happening, his dad had been hit by a truck while stumbling drunkenly from their apartment to the bar across the street.

Which left the boy, who was by that point a teenager, filled with the need for vengeance and no where to get it.

Until now.

Now he was creating the scenario and reliving it over and over again.

So we'd kept watch on the local motels.

And as soon as we got word that our guy had checked in and then switched rooms, Alex and I got ready.

I made sure that I wore a shirt plenty long enough to cover my…_assets_ so that when I dropped my pants I wouldn't be giving away the store.

And it might seem trivial considering we were preparing to take down a serial killer, but I just didn't want to even have to consider the possibility that Lacey and McHale might be ogling my ass.

Or that it would be on footage that would later be played in court when this guy went to trial.

Because my ass was hopefully going to be what blocked out the camera's view of what Alex was going to be doing.

Or at least, what she would be _pretending_ to be doing.

So I wore a button-down shirt that came down to the edge of my boxer shorts.

Alex was in an outfit meant to make her look like a hooker.

Of course, she was the best looking hooker I'd ever seen in my life, and believe me, I've seen quite a few.

Not like _that._

But on the job.

"What will it take for me to get you to wear that outfit again later?" I teased her as we got ready to go.

"You like this?"

"What's not to like?" I replied with a grin.

She stepped up close to me and ran her hand down the front of my shirt.

"Let's get through this and then I'll recreate this whole thing for you," she said in a husky voice. I caught her hand as it settled on my belt buckle.

"The whole thing?" I questioned with blatant interest.

"Well, except for the part about having a guy come in to kill us," she added with a smile.

But her teasing did not lessen my arousal and I really needed to get control of myself.

"Do me a favor," I said, and my voice was strained.

"Sure."

"Don't say anything remotely like that again until we finish this bust, okay?"

She smirked at me and then stepped away to get her coat. I checked the gun that was in my pocket and then we turned on our com devices.

"We're heading out now," Alex told Lacey. She and McHale were set up in the room next to the one that our killer was targeting.

"Be careful."

And we were.

Like I said, it went perfectly.

We went into the room and around to the far side of the bed.

Alex gave me her price.

_Twenty dollars_, she'd said.

I didn't even want to question why I had to fight back the urge to insist on paying her more.

But I paid the money and then she didn't waste any time.

She got down on her knees in front of me and I reminded myself that this was a sting.

_Repeatedly and vehemently_ reminded myself of that while she went about unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants and then slowly lowering them to the floor.

Once she cleared the bed height, she worked her hand into the pocket and pulled out my gun which she then wedged between her thighs.

It would've been nice if the guy attacked at this point.

But he didn't.

No, instead we had to go through with the ruse.

I kept my back to the rest of the room, hoping like hell that it would block any specific activity, or lack there of, from view, but still…

"You don't have to impress anyone with your stamina," Alex had told me before we'd come into the room.

"You want me to fake being a two-minute man?" I'd joked.

"The faster you finish, the faster we can get out of here," she'd reminded me.

"I know," I'd assured her.

So I had the shortest fuse in history and we wrapped things up in a matter of minutes.

I'd barely finished shouting out my approval when we heard Lacey yell into our ears, "He's on the move!"

The guy burst into the room, I dropped to the floor, and Alex sprang to her feet with my gun aimed at his head.

He pulled up short, confused by the situation, but then he pointed his weapon at her.

"Federal agent! Drop your weapon," she ordered.

But he didn't.

Instead, he fired off a shot and so did she.

His went wide right.

Hers caught him in the shoulder.

He went down to the ground as Lacey and McHale stormed in to take custody of the now-wounded killer.

"Nice work, Agents," Lacey said as she handed off the guy to the locals. "McHale and I will take care of the details. You two get some rest and we'll head for home first thing in the morning."

We didn't exactly get a lot of rest, but we did enjoy one last night of being in a hotel without surveillance.

And the next day, we drove back to the city and reported in to the federal building.

By now, Beemer's death was old news.

But the circumstance surrounding it was not.

"You know he was dirty, right?" Rivas asked me in a hushed voice.

We were in the men's room, and not exactly my favorite place to carry on a conversation, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity for insight.

"How do you know?"

"He was watching you and Eames."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know, right? Banta found video surveillance footage of your apartment dating back several months. Miles of it. They think that Beemer had a hard-on for you, like he was jealous that you're with Eames now."

"So he taped us?" I asked, ignoring the incorrectness of the idea that Alex had ever had anything to do with Beemer in a personal sense. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, but they say that he was using Bureau resources to keep tabs on you guys. And you know what else?"

"I have no idea."

"He had a safe in his apartment."

And now he had piqued my interest.

"What was in it?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

On that tidbit, Rivas left the bathroom and I took a moment to think about the latest.

Alex and I had been gone for two weeks.

In that time, the feds had determined that Beemer was a double agent and they'd fully bought into the story that he and Alex used to be an item and so they'd latched onto the idea that he had been taping us out of jealousy.

But now I had even more questions.

_Had_ he been the one taping us?

Or was someone setting him up to look bad?

And had Beemer anticipated this? Is that why he'd planted the seed that Alex used to date him?

I repeated these questions to Alex when I met up with her in our conference room.

"Maybe he _was_ listening," she suggested. "Maybe he wanted to be sure that we were looking into Ross' murder for the right reasons."

"You mean because we wanted justice as opposed to being more plants by Hassan?"

"Right. I mean, our department did let him go. Maybe Beemer didn't trust that we were the good guys."

"You're assuming that he was one."

"It's awfully convenient otherwise, don't you think? And they just happened to find money in his apartment?"

"Five hundred thousand," I mused. "Does that buy information on an undercover's identity?"

"You think it would be more?"

"I don't know," I admitted in frustration. "But we need to get back on track. We need to find out who was calling Isabelle Mullins. And we need to know more about Banta. Don't you think it's odd that he's the one who conducted the search of Beemer's place?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "And so who are they saying killed him?"

"The official word now is that it was one of Beemer's yet-to-be-found informants."

"An informant who travels with three of his closest buddies? I find that hard to believe. Those guys always work alone."

"Exactly. But I'm guessing that we're not supposed to know the details. I mean, that kind of puts us in a bind. We can't question it because we supposedly weren't there. And I haven't caught wind of anyone mentioning that there was more than one person involved."

"Well, at least we can pull the cameras from our apartment," she reminded me.

"That's true," I agreed. "And if they truly buy the theory that it was an informant who killed Beemer then they must no longer suspect that we were involved."

"Which means that we shouldn't be in any danger."

"Except from the real mole. Because I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't Beemer."

"Yeah. I hate to admit it, but you're right. It wasn't him. Which means that we still have to keep looking."

I didn't trust Banta enough for Alex to meet with him, but I still needed to talk to Agent Hooker, so we decided that she had a doctor's appointment.

"I don't like leaving you alone in this building," she'd said when I made the suggestion.

"With the mole? Or with Hooker?" I teased.

"Bobby, I'm serious. If this is a cover-up, it's huge. There could be a lot more dirty agents than we thought. I mean, there was a whole team involved in that search of Beemer's place."

"But it only takes one to plant evidence. Or to throw out a suggestion and then lead the others in that direction, right?"

"That's true," she agreed.

"And Hooker's not part of this."

"Are you sure? It was Banta's idea to set you two up."

She had a point.

"We won't leave the office," I assured her. "And in the mean time, you can touch base with Maas and bring him up to speed."

"Goren," Stahl said, poking her head into the room. "I need to steal Eames from you for just a minute."

"Um…sure," Alex said, getting up from her chair. "And then I need to run out. I have a doctor's appointment."

"That's fine. This'll only take a minute."

I watched through the glass door as Stahl had a brief chat with Alex.

It looked as though maybe she was apologizing.

For being looked at as a suspect? It was hard to say, but the conversation was short and then Stahl walked away without another word.

Alex stepped back into the room.

"She wanted to make sure that I was okay," she explained. "And she told me that she reprimanded Banta for accusing me of having something to do with Beemer's murder."

"Well, it wasn't just Banta."

"That's what I said, but apparently he was the one who started the ball rolling. She also promised me that the surveillance tapes were locked up in evidence."

"That's good to know. What about the audio tapes?"

"She said all of it. According to her, we're bug free."

"Yeah, well, I'll believe it when I hear it from Jimmy."

"Call him," she agreed. "I'll go do my thing and you…see what you can find out from the hooker."

TBC...


	23. Chapter 23

**Alex POV**

* * *

I left Bobby at the federal building, presumably to go to a doctor's appointment, but instead, I met with Maas.

And he had some interesting information.

"We had word of a potential virus in our computer system," he told me.

We were sitting at a table out on the street in Times Square, each of us drinking coffee.

There weren't many people around, but it was a Thursday morning in the middle of October so it wasn't exactly the busy tourist season.

But still…we weren't worried about anyone spotting us.

Who would be looking?

And Maas had worn a slick-material warm-up suit and an odd little hat.

In fact, if anyone did look at us, they'd surely peg him for a made man as opposed to the Deputy Chief of D's.

"A virus?" I questioned.

"Yeah, go figure," he said. "So we had to pull the logs of computer access dating all the way back to February."

"The HR logs?" I asked with a grin, finally catching on to what he was saying.

"That's right. I think you'll find the results rather interesting."

"It was Mullins, wasn't it?"

Maas looked at me over his coffee, apparently deciding whether to just tell me now or to make me wait and read it from the data stick later.

"She accessed Goren's file," he said at last. "From an offsite IP address."

"So she provided the Bureau with personal information on him. That's how they knew about his time at Tates."

"Uh huh," he said with a slow nod.

"Why? Why would they even care?"

"I think that maybe they were just looking for _some_thing," he told me. "They wanted to have leverage against him. They wanted to know what kind of man they were dealing with."

"You think they wanted to know if he could be bought," I concluded.

He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.

"At this point, it's speculation."

"Did you ask her about it?"

"We didn't want to spook her. But I did send Denise over to chat her up."

Moran's secretary.

And possibly an old girlfriend of Bobby's.

I tamped down my jealousy and waited to see what Maas had to say about her.

"She pumped Isabelle for information, trying to goad her into talking about Goren."

"And?"

"And Denise thinks that she doesn't even know who he is. She acted genuinely confused."

"So…offsite. You think that Isabelle's boyfriend at the time used her password to access the NYPD database."

"Isn't that what you suspected?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Well, at least it sounds like the NYPD is clean on this one. If Isabelle was just a pawn and she didn't know what was happening…"

He nodded his agreement and just stared at me for a minute.

"So how are you holding up?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"They've been working you two to death, haven't they?"

"Maybe they just want to keep us busy. Then we won't have any free time to investigate our real purpose for being there."

"Well, you know the lengths that they're willing to go to," he reminded me. "I don't have to tell you to watch your back."

"Goren does that," I said firmly.

"I'm betting he does," he replied vaguely. "How'd your last case go? Where were you, White Plains?"

"Oh, yeah. Um…it was fine," I answered, suddenly flustered at the mention of that case and flooded by the memories of what we'd done _after_ that case…

"You two are racking up the busts. The Bureau might not want to let you go when this is all over."

"I can't imagine they'll have much say in the matter."

"It might be easier on you."

I stared at him hard, unsure exactly what he was trying to tell me.

"Because…"

"I'm just saying. It might be something to consider."

"Are you saying that Moran doesn't want us back in Major Case?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what? Just say it."

"No, I don't think so," he said, getting up from the table. "Some things are better left unsaid."

"What…"

And then I had it.

He _did_ know about us. And he was telling me that we had to keep it quiet.

_Well, tell me something I don't know_, I thought.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said firmly. I got up from the table, too and turned to toss my cup in the trash.

"We're doing a job," I continued. "That's all. And when we finish this one, we want to go back to the department and start doing _that_ one again. And if you or Moran have some kind of problem with that because of some ill-conceived notion of…"

"There's no problem, Agent Eames. I didn't mean to suggest that there was. I was merely pointing out your options."

And me getting hot under the collar was proving exactly why it might be necessary for him to show me those options.

_Way to play it cool, Alex_.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "It's just…this thing has lasted longer than either of us expected."

"I understand. No need to apologize."

"Thanks for meeting me on short notice. I'd better get back to the office. I'll call you tonight to set up the next meeting."

I turned to leave, but he got my attention again.

"Hey, I'm not one to spread gossip, but did you know that the captain over in the 6-8 lives with one of her detectives?"

"What? No, I had no idea."

"Exactly."

He left me on that remark and I got his message loud and clear.

Without a doubt, he knew about us.

And we could come back to the department and continue on as we had been as long as we kept our mouths shut.

Or we could stay at the Bureau and not have to hide our relationship.

I went back to the federal building and sought out Bobby.

He was back in our conference room, but when I sat down next to him, I could smell him.

"Oh for the love of God, did she actually spray it on you? Or did she just rub up against you enough to transfer it onto your suit?"

And yeah, okay, so my conversation with Maas had put me in a bad mood.

It probably shouldn't have.

He seemed like he was being extremely supportive.

And I don't know whether Moran knew about me and Bobby or not, but it didn't seem like it was going to matter.

As long as I didn't throw Bobby down on a desk in the middle of a squad room, then we'd probably be okay.

Not only that, but Maas had offered up confirmation of our suspicions about Mullins.

So now we just needed to figure out who she'd been seeing at the time.

Which meant that we were closing in on someone.

So I should be in a good mood.

Except that Maas had brought up Denise, which was a sore subject for me, and now Bobby was reeking of perfume.

Have I mentioned my new-found propensity for jealousy?

"Yeah, she does lay it on a little thick, doesn't she?" he said as he stood up to remove his jacket. He tossed it over the back of a chair that was on the other side of the room and then came back to the table.

"So did she provide you with any information? Because that is what you went there for."

"Yeah, I know that," he said, finally catching onto my irritation. "Do _you_ know that?"

"What did you get?" I asked, ignoring his question.

"She dazzled me with her ability to hack any system. Payroll. Personnel. Whatever. All without being detected."

"I'm sure you were appropriately impressed. Did you get anything we can use?"

"Uh uh," he said. "First tell me what's going on. What happened with Maas?"

"What, I'm going to cough up my information first just because you tell me to? I don't think so, Bobby. If you want someone you can boss around, maybe you should go back to the dazzling Dreama."

I got up and started walking around the room.

This was one of those times where I knew I was in a bad mood, and I knew that I was taking it out on him for no reason and yet I couldn't seem to stop myself.

"Alex, what's going on?"

He got up and followed me around the table. I knew that he didn't want to touch me while we were at work, but his concern overrode his sense of professionalism. He reached out and lightly ran his fingers along my arm until I forced myself to bring my eyes to his.

"Bobby," I said on a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry."

"What happened with Maas?"

"Nothing. I mean, it was fine. He found out that Mullins accessed your file, only he doesn't think that she knows you. And it didn't happen in the building, so the theory is that someone was chatting her up and then met with her outside of work and convinced her to let them use her password."

"That's good news."

"Yes."

"Then…"

"Maas used Denise to talk to Isabelle."

"Okay…"

"As in, Denise your ex-girlfriend. And then I come in here and you're smelling like the Mustang Ranch, and…"

I blew out a frustrated breath and ran my hand through my hair.

I was being absolutely ridiculous.

"Hey," he said softly, settling his hands on my waist. "First off, I'm sorry about the perfume. She had apparently just put it on before I got there, and I'm sure that it was for my benefit, but trust me when I tell you that I didn't come into contact with her. And Denise…"

"Bobby, you don't have to explain. I don't know why it struck me wrong. It certainly isn't your fault that Maas used Denise to obtain information."

"Alex, she's not an ex-girlfriend. She asked me out a couple of times but I never went."

"Yeah, but see, even if you had, I wouldn't have any right to get mad about that."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe…see, Maas said that maybe we should consider staying with the Bureau."

"He doesn't want us back?"

"That's what I said," I replied, now finally able to smile. "And he was doing some kind of double talk, saying things without really saying them, but I think the gist of it is that if we stay here, we're out of the closet. If we go back there, then we have to be discreet."

"Discreet, but not _nothing_," he clarified. "I mean, he didn't say that we couldn't be partners if we're dating, right?"

"He pretty much said that he doesn't want to know."

"And that's what's bothering you," he stated. He moved his hand up to rest against the side of my neck, and I knew it would only be another minute before he slid his fingers into my hair. "Because right now, for the most part, we're able to just be us. If we go back there, it'll feel like we're going back to how we were before."

Sometimes it irritates me when he knows what I'm thinking before I do, but not this time.

This time, it just made me love him even more.

"Yeah," I agreed. "And I don't want it to be like before."

"Only at work," he reminded me, leaning down close so that his lips were right next to my ear. It was our habit, after living so long with bugs, and it was another example of something that I didn't want to change. "After work, we'll still be together, just like we are now. Only with no one watching."

And just like that, he eradicated my fears.

I should've known it was something more deep-seated than just simple jealousy.

"That's true," I agreed.

"Except we won't be partners anyway. Because you'll be my boss," he added with a grin.

"I don't know about that, Bobby."

"You promised. If Moran offers it…"

"I don't know if he will. Although Maas did mention something about a captain over at the 6-8."

"What about him?"

"Her. Apparently she lives with one of her detectives."

"I didn't know that."

"That was his point."

"Ah, well, see? We have his blessing."

I took one more moment to enjoy our closeness, and then I took a step back from him. Together we went around the table and sat back down.

"Okay, so tell me what you got from Hooker."

"Well, I could only toss a couple of names at her because I didn't want to look like I was digging, but since she and I were talking about Banta, seeing as how he introduced us, she pulled up his file."

"And?"

"He pays big bucks for his apartment. But do you want to know he affords it?"

"Since you're not more excited, I'm guessing that you're not going to say from regular cash deposits put into an offshore account," I said with a smirk.

"Hardly. More like from regular deposits made from his ex-wife."

"He was married?"

"Uh huh. And she was loaded. So he gets palimony."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm not. So the ex pays for his pad, which explains that away, but guess what else?"

"I'm all ears."

"Not from where I'm sitting," he quipped as his eyes raked over me and then came back up to meet mine. I chuckled at him and then attempted to look stern.

"Tell me," I said, although I couldn't keep from smiling.

How did he always manage to make me feel so good?

We were knee-deep in this bee hive of an investigation and yet one little suggestive comment from him had me ready to jump him.

_This was why colleagues shouldn't date_, I thought.

Although maybe it was why they _should_.

The job was serious enough without getting bogged down by depression.

"He's made two trips to Africa within the past three years."

"Under the guise of what?"

"He stated business on his travel papers, but the Bureau didn't send him."

"So business for whom?" I asked rhetorically.

"Exactly. I think it's time that you and I had us a chat with Agent Banta."

TBC...


	24. Chapter 24

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Banta wasn't in his office.

"What do you need?" Stahl said as we passed her open doorway.

"We were looking for Banta," Alex told her.

"Yeah, I figured that," Stahl replied smartly. "I'm asking what you need."

I glanced at Alex. We were both surprised by Stahl's open hostility.

"Um…we were under the impression that we'd be working with him," Alex lied smoothly.

"You just got back," she stated firmly. "With Lacey and McHale, right?"

"Yes."

She knew we'd been with them. She was the one who had assigned us to them.

"Then why…no," she said with a shake of her head. "It doesn't matter. But no, you're not working with Banta. In fact, Banta put in a request for some vacation time."

"He's not here?"

"No. He had days that he had to burn up before the end of the year. You know, use it or lose it. He decided to use it."

"Oh. Okay," I said with a shrug, hiding my disappointment.

Going casually to his office to have a chat with him was entirely different from actively seeking him out at his home.

I wasn't sure that we had enough ammunition to do that just yet.

I didn't want to scare him off.

"Take the rest of the day," Stahl said. "You worked your asses off in White Plains. In fact, take tomorrow, too. Just report back on Monday."

"Are you sure? I mean, we don't mind…"

"I know you don't mind. And you're going to make us all look bad with the amount of time that you so cheerfully put in, okay? So just take a damn break!"

We both stood frozen in her doorway as she glared at us for a long minute and then she sighed heavily and sat back in her chair.

"I'm sorry. You two caught me at a bad moment. I didn't…just…I'll see you back here on Monday, okay?"

"Is everything okay?" Alex asked her.

Over the course of the past six months, we'd rarely seen Stahl frazzled, but we were certainly seeing it now.

"I'm fine. I'm…come in and close the door."

We entered her office and closed the door behind us.

"This thing with Beemer is really bothering me," she said. "It wasn't an informant. He didn't have any informant. I would've known about it. Wouldn't I? I mean, I was his partner. I should've known about something like that."

"You weren't with him twenty-four seven," I said gently. "It's hard to say what he might have been up to."

"So you believe it? Just because of the harassment, right?"

"You need to take a break," Alex told her. "Follow your own advice, and take the weekend. You barely took a moment after losing your partner. That has to be tough."

"I guess I'm just feeling a little guilty," she admitted.

"Guilty? Why?"

"Beemer wanted me to meet him that night. But I was…having personal issues and I told him no."

"He asked you to meet him?" I repeated, careful not to reveal my bewilderment about that.

Why would he have asked Stahl to come?

Was he going to bring her in on it, too?

I guess it stood to reason.

They _were _partners.

And if he had some kind of evidence against Banta, then she would need to know about it.

"It probably wouldn't have changed anything," Alex said. "If someone wanted him dead and you were with him, then they would've just killed you, too."

"Maybe," she replied thoughtfully. "But you know, Ross was killed on my watch. And now Beemer. How can I not take it personally?"

"You think someone targeted them because of you?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think that…" Alex began slowly. "You can't shoulder the blame for this. Ross was trying to pull one over on a terrorist group. And Beemer…well, we don't know yet exactly what he was into, do we?"

She's good, my Alex.

If I didn't know her better, I would've believed that she didn't care much about solving either murder.

But I _did_ know her better.

And I was well aware that she was keeping her mask securely in place for Stahl.

"I know. Okay, well, again I'm sorry about this. I never should've snapped at you. Um…yeah. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Okay," I said as I reached for the door.

"So your personal issues," Alex said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was…relationship trouble. I'm sure you can understand that," she said as she got up from her desk. Then she looked back and forth between the two of us and added, "Or maybe you can't."

"I didn't realize you were seeing someone," Alex stated.

And for some reason, I felt like I was missing something, but I had no idea what it was.

"I _was_," she clarified. "But not anymore. It's over."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No need," she replied dismissively.

We said our goodbyes and left her office. Once we were out in the hall with the door closed, I glanced at Alex.

"What was that all about?"

"Well, for starters, she's lying. Beemer didn't ask her to meet with him."

"Can you be sure about that?"

"No," she admitted. "But if she is, I'd really like to know why. And something today has her on edge. It's more than Beemer getting a bad rep. She's worried about something."

"I definitely haven't ever seen her so cranky," I remarked.

"Oh, hey, did you call Jimmy?" she asked me suddenly as we got to the elevator.

"Yeah," I told her. "The video cameras are there, but not active."

"Which means they can be turned back on at any time."

"Right. And the audio is still fully functional."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. "They just can't quit lying to us, can they? So who's listening now?"

"My guess would be Banta," I replied. "It's probably been him all along, and he just stashed the old tapes at Beemer's place."

"That's true," she agreed thoughtfully.

"So what do you want to do?" I asked her.

"You mean besides going to Banta's place and beating a confession out of him?"

"Yeah, besides that," I said with a smile.

"I don't know. I don't want to go home yet."

It was always tough to go back to the bugs. We'd just spent two weeks in a hotel in White Plains, and even though we'd spent the large majority of that time working, at least when we weren't working, we had privacy.

"Let's get a hotel. Now that we officially know we were being videotaped, it would stand to reason that we'd be a little spooked about going back."

So we checked into a hotel.

We were only a month or so away from Thanksgiving and I really wanted to have this thing put to rest by then.

I wanted Alex to be able to have dinner with her family and not have to worry about obfuscation and subterfuge.

But with Banta gone from work, it might take a little while. We needed to be able to talk with him, but like I said, I was afraid that if we went to see him at home, it would spook him.

We couldn't risk having him run.

So for now, it seemed like we were going to have to stick with the status quo.

Except that we had a three-day weekend ahead of us with no work, no secret meetings, and no cover stories.

It was just the two of us, in a room paid for with cash.

I wasn't worried about the lack of activity that would be going on in our apartment.

They weren't supposed to be listening anyway.

And if they were, well…I had no problem telling anyone who asked that we'd spent our unexpected mini-vacation in a hotel.

_On Monday_.

But for now, no one knew where we were.

Although, we'd obviously have to come up with a different story for Maas.

Somehow I had a feeling that telling him that we barely got dressed or left the room for seventy-two hours would not be a good career move.

But it was the truth.

For three whole days, we ordered room service and stayed in.

Of course, we talked about case strategy.

But we also talked about our families and our childhoods and…just everything.

It was like being on one long stakeout, only this time we were naked and we weren't confined to a car.

"We should go somewhere," she said to me. "When this is over, I mean."

It was Sunday night, or maybe almost Monday morning because it was pretty late.

I was sitting in the chair and Alex was on my lap. We had the blanket from the bed covering us as we sat and watched the city through the fifth-story window.

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be," I replied as I moved my hand in a random pattern over her back. "I don't think that I've ever been this relaxed."

"That's true," she agreed. "Your leg hasn't bounced in two days."

"Are you making fun of my nervous habits?"

"I would never make fun of you," she said. "Well, not too much anyway."

"You're in an awfully precarious position to be casting aspersions," I told her as I moved my fingers so that they were lightly tickling her waist.

That was one of the many things that I'd learned about her since we'd started this job.

She is very ticklish.

She wiggled against me in an effort to move away from my attack, and if I hadn't already been aroused, that would've done the trick.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned.

She ran her hand down my chest and let it hover in the vicinity of my stomach.

Mere inches away from a much preferable location.

"Are you threatening to touch me? Because that's not really much of a deterrent."

"I'm saying that if you keep tickling then I _won't_ touch you."

I quickly moved my hand up her back and she slid hers down the last few inches.

I let out a heavy sigh and leaned my head back against the chair.

"So where do you want to go?" I said softly as she slowly trailed her fingers along my length.

"You tell me."

"I'm good with right here."

"Me, too," she admitted. "I just…I want us to take some time before we go back."

"You're still worried that it's not going to work," I concluded.

And then because I could barely think straight while she was doing what she was doing, I put my hand over hers to stop the motion.

She looked up at me and without her saying a word, I could see that I was right.

And I could understand it.

The NYPD had been the focus of both of our lives for so long and yet we didn't become a couple until after we left which made it hard to assimilate the two.

"If it doesn't work, then we don't have to stay," I told her. "Because _we're_ going work. So if the department makes it too difficult, or things change in a way that we don't like, then we'll leave. We'll go back to the Bureau."

"Just like that?"

"If it means the difference in our relationship? Absolutely. I'm in this, Alex. And you know me…I don't halfway do anything."

"I know," she said with a nod, and then she finally smiled. "I'm not sure why it makes me so nervous. I'm not normally so insecure."

"Trust _me_," I told her. "Even if you don't trust yourself. You and me…we're going to be just fine."

I let go of her hand and instead encouraged her to shift so that she was straddling me.

As much as I'd been enjoying what she was doing before, I needed to be inside of her.

I needed that connection and I knew that she did, too.

But she drew out the moment by kissing me first.

It began as a tender, gentle exploration but it turned into so much more.

She moved again, rubbing up against me in a way that had me clamping my hands down on her hips just to hold her still.

She was making me crazy with want for her, but she just kept kissing me and running her fingers through my hair and it all felt so good that I was nearly ready to explode despite the fact that we'd barely even started.

"Alex," I managed to say, although it came out as more like a groan.

I wasn't sure if I was capable of saying any more words, but in my head I could hear myself begging repeatedly.

_Please, please, please…_

And as though she could read my mind, she mercifully moved again, this time settling down on me until I was buried fully within.

She'd worked me into such a frenzy with the delicate touch of her hands and her lips that I had to set the pace.

I _needed_ to set the pace.

I kept my hands on her thighs, urging her faster and faster as I pushed up into her over and over.

This definitely wasn't making love, but that was okay. We'd done that a few times over the weekend already.

This was making a statement.

I have no idea how I managed to hold off as long as I did, especially considering that I was ready to blow my top before we even started, but as it was, I followed her into oblivion the _fourth_ time she screamed out my name.

And yeah, I'd brag about that one if I was the kind of guy who bragged.

But I'm not, so I'd just quietly gloat about the fact that I'd given her that kind of ecstasy.

My Alex. My _Eames_.

No way was I ever giving this up.

Giving _her_ up.

If it didn't work at the NYPD, then we'd just go somewhere else.

TBC...


	25. Chapter 25

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Alex and I went to work the next morning and were immediately assigned to a case.

Another undercover, which would've been just fine if we both weren't itching to wrap up the Ross case.

And we couldn't _work_ the Ross case while we were trying to smoke out a couples' therapist who was scamming his patients out of their money.

So we had to report to Agent Lacey, who apparently really liked working with us, and along with her and Agent McHale, we jumped into this next thing with both feet.

The good news was that we once again got to pretend to be married. And I got a great deal of satisfaction from pulling off that little ruse.

The bad news was that this time we had to be a bickering husband and wife.

Thus the need for couples' therapy.

Although it didn't turn out to be so bad.

We actually had a lot of fun with it. The biggest challenge was to keep from laughing while we were arguing with each other.

What was even better was that we were once again working out of town.

And true, it was Port Jervis. Not exactly the excitement capitol of the world.

But it did mean that we were once again in a hotel, and this time on the Bureau's dime.

The four of us worked well together, but I wondered why McHale was suddenly working with Lacey when last summer she'd spent most of her time on Stahl's task force.

And after two weeks into the assignment, when the four of us had called it quits for the day and had descended upon the local Red Robin for dinner and a few beers, I finally decided to ask.

"So what happened with you and Stahl? Some kind of falling out?" I asked McHale.

She and Lacey, each of them mid-bite, both stopped and stared at me.

I was caught off-guard by their reaction, so I glanced at Alex to see her response.

She shrugged at me and took a sip of her beer before looking back at our colleagues.

"Why, what did you hear?" Lacey asked carefully.

"Um…nothing," I replied. "I was just curious."

"Did Stahl say something?"

"No," I said again.

But of course, now I was dying to hear the story.

I couldn't imagine what had happened, because McHale seemed like a dependable agent to me. She didn't seem like a risk-taker, or one to push the envelope. But she was smart and she worked hard.

"Don't worry about it," Alex told them.

"Yeah, it's no big deal. I was just making conversation."

"So you really don't know?" Lacey asked, although this time she seemed amused by that fact.

I shook my head and then watched as Lacey pointedly reached over and grabbed a hold of McHale's hand.

I think that it probably took several seconds for the implication to permeate my brain, but Alex picked up the slack in the conversation.

"So Stahl assigned you two to start working together _because _you're in a relationship?" she questioned.

"Yes and no," McHale answered.

"Aren't you married?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "But my husband knows. It works okay for us. We agreed to stay together until the kids were out of the house. He's still my friend. But sexually…"

"You don't have to get into details," I interrupted quickly.

And it wasn't that I had any problem with them being gay.

I was fine with it.

But gay or straight, I had no interest in hearing about the details of Agent McHale's sex life.

She laughed at me and I was glad that she'd taken my statement for what it was rather than as an insult.

"You know, I thought you two were supposed to be these great detectives," Lacey teased. "You spent two weeks with us in White Plains, and now two weeks here and you didn't have any idea?"

"Maybe you two should go undercover next time," Alex joked. Then she went back to her initial question. "So Stahl knows?"

"She…knows," McHale said hesitantly.

I watched her as she glanced apologetically at Lacey and then looked back at Alex. Something was still going on here.

And then I had it.

"You were dating Stahl before Lacey," I suggested.

"Maybe you are a good detective after all," McHale said with a broad grin. "Yes, I was with Stahl for more than a year. We broke up last spring."

"Last spring…around the time of the Hassan case," I stated.

I didn't mind bringing up that case with them. It was obvious that we knew about the case so it would almost look more suspicious if we studiously ignored it.

"That's right," McHale said with a nod. "She was under a lot of stress and…I don't know. Maybe I just didn't know how to deal with her when she was like that."

"Like what, exactly?" Alex asked, and even though her tone was casual, I wondered if she was going somewhere with it.

Did she suspect Stahl of being the mole?

Did she think that was the cause of her undue stress around that time?

Or was she just trying to get a feel for the whole dynamic of the task force?

"She decided that I was cheating on her," McHale said. "She even hired a private detective."

"How did you find out?" I asked her, although my real question would've been more like _so she thought that her gay lover who was actually married to a man was cheating on her with another woman?_

"Banta," McHale said. "He made a joke about it because of the guy's name."

"What was it?"

"Dick Buster," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, so you can imagine he had a field day with that one."

"How did _he_ find out?" Alex asked.

"I don't know. I didn't ask him. Honestly, I was so ticked that she would have me followed, that I never even considered asking him."

"And what's even worse is that Stahl was cheating on _her_," Lacey added, tipping her head towards McHale. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Wait," I said, waving my hand between us. And yeah, so I'd had several beers by this point, but they'd opened the gate on this one, so I was going to get all that I could. "So Stahl accused you of cheating on her while she was actually the one stepping out?"

"Uh huh," she replied with a nod.

"And you weren't cheating," I clarified. "Other than on your husband who was fine with it."

"Right," she said with a smile.

"Wow. You guys are blowing my mind."

"Not as much fun as White Plains when Eames was blowing your…"

"Hey!" I shouted, interrupting her dirty joke.

But then we all started laughing.

"You know I wasn't _really_ doing anything," Alex said as she struggled to contain her laughter.

"Oh yeah, we know," Lacey said dismissively. "Sorry, that was inappropriate of me."

"It's fine," I assured her. Then I looked at McHale. "So if you don't mind me asking, what happened a month ago that caused Stahl to start assigning you to work with Lacey?"

"That's when we started dating. Or, actually a little before that, but that was when Stahl found out. She said that she didn't think she could work closely with me anymore."

"Because she still has feelings for you?"

"I guess," she said with a shrug.

So that would explain the personal issue that Stahl was talking about…the thing that had caused her to pass on meeting with Beemer.

She was upset over the idea that McHale had moved on to someone else.

But did any of this have anything to do with Ross?

I didn't see how.

It took us ten more days to finish the case in Port Jervis and then we headed back to the city.

We needed to meet up with Maas again. We'd been out of town for almost a month, so in the mean time, we'd only communicated briefly via pay phones.

But we weren't going to bother him on a Sunday evening, especially when we didn't have anything specific to report.

And neither of us could bring ourselves to go to my apartment, either, so instead we paid a visit to Logan.

We hadn't seen him in more than month, the night that Beemer had been killed.

"So what do you want?" he asked when he opened the door. "Me or my spare bedroom?"

"Maybe we want you _and_ your spare bedroom," Alex joked as he let us into the apartment.

"Now you're talking my language," he replied. "As long as I get to be in the middle."

"In your dreams," she retorted. "But we did think that we'd bend your ear awhile about this case."

"Unless you've got plans," I added.

"I do now," he said as he headed for the kitchen. He met us back in his living room carrying three bottles of beer. "Okay, let's hear it."

So the three of us spent the next two hours going over everything that we knew about the case.

Alex and I had rehashed it so many times that we thought it might help to get a fresh perspective.

"So is Banta back at the federal building?" Logan asked after we brought him up to speed.

"He should be. He's probably been back for a couple of weeks."

"I'm guessing that he'll be your first priority tomorrow."

"Definitely," I agreed.

My cell phone rang and interrupted the rest of what I was going to say. I didn't recognize the number on the display.

"Goren," I answered.

"Bobby. It's Denise."

And why is it that even though I haven't done a thing wrong I still felt instant panic when she said her name?

I mean, I haven't even spoken with the woman in more than a year, and even then it was business-related.

It had been more than five years since she last asked me out, and like I told Alex, I'd never actually gone.

But now, here I was sitting on Logan's couch with Alex's leg pressed up against mine.

And yet my blood had run cold at the introduction.

"Um…hi," I said hesitantly. "What can I do for you?"

I was painfully aware of the fact that Alex and Logan had both stopped talking and were staring at me intently.

"I think it's more what I can do for you."

"I'm listening."

"Not on the phone. I need to meet you somewhere."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

_Understatement of the year. _

I knew damn well that it wasn't a good idea.

"It's important," she insisted.

"Bobby, who is it?" Alex asked me.

I held up my finger to Alex, silently asking her to wait, while my brain scrambled for an acceptable alternative to a covert meeting with Denise.

Although it was actually painfully obvious.

"I'll send Eames," I told her. "Where?"

"Eames?" she questioned.

"Just tell me where," I repeated.

"Oh, um…okay. The back entrance to Central Park Zoo. Can she be there in an hour?"

"That's fine," I said, and then I hung up.

"You'll send Eames?" Alex questioned with more than a little irritation. "You'll send Eames where? Who was that?"

"It was Denise," I told her. I completely ignored Logan and just held her gaze. "She said that she has information, but she didn't want to tell me on the phone."

"So I'm going to meet her?"

"I didn't think you would like it if I went to meet her."

"Why not?" Logan spoke up. "Who is this Denise person?"

"The chief's secretary," Alex told him.

"Oh," he answered in a knowing voice.

"No, not _oh_," I insisted in annoyance. "There's nothing there. I don't know why in the world everyone thinks that there is. Or was. Whatever. But it's _nothing_."

"It's fine, Bobby. Really," Alex said, resting her hand on my leg.

It seemed as though she'd garnered a little more confidence in our relationship since the last time Denise's name had come up.

Or maybe I was just being overly paranoid.

Either way, she nodded at me encouragingly.

"I don't have any problem meeting with her," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she promised. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "But I'll stay back and just keep an eye on things."

"Good. You'll see. Everything will work out fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed, and then she smirked and added, "But bring a shovel. I may need help hiding the body."

TBC...


	26. Chapter 26

**Alex POV**

* * *

I'm not going to analyze why I felt a perverse sense of pleasure when I saw Denise looking less than her best.

Or maybe I'd just built her up in my head to be better looking than she really was, I don't know.

But when I met her at the entrance to the zoo, she looked just like she should.

Like a middle-aged woman who put in long hours on the job.

"What is it?" I asked her without preamble.

To her credit, she didn't ask about Bobby.

I was beginning to think that maybe my jealousy was misplaced.

Because even though I'd believed _him_ when he said that there had never been anything between them, I couldn't help but feel as though that wasn't by _her _choice.

And I felt the insane urge to stake my claim.

To let her know that he was mine.

But of course, I couldn't do that.

Maybe that was what made me jealous. In fact, it probably was.

She could have an overt relationship with him.

I couldn't.

"Captain Maas asked me to befriend Isabelle Mullins," she replied.

"I know. And we appreciate the information that you got from her."

"Well, there's more," she said. "And I tried calling Maas, but I couldn't get him. That's why I called Bobby."

"Okay," I said agreeably, wishing she'd just hurry up and get to it.

"I've been hanging out with her for a few weeks now and this afternoon…well, she made a pass at me."

"A pass?" I repeated. It was an antiquated term and I wanted to make sure that we were talking about the same thing. "She came on to you? Are you saying that she's into women?"

"Both, I think," she admitted. "But yeah."

"Are you sure? You didn't misread body language or innuendo?"

"Eames, she kissed me, okay?"

"Okay," I said with a nod. "So what makes you think that she goes both ways?"

"She would talk about different men in the department. You know, just girl talk. Who's good-looking, or who would be good in bed. That kind of thing."

"And then just out of the blue, she kissed you?"

"She said that she felt a connection with me," she said self-consciously. "I guess I'm good at this spy stuff, huh?"

"I guess so," I replied. "Okay, thanks."

"Oh, and I made a list for you," she said, handing me a piece of paper. "You know, places that she likes to eat…shop…that kind of thing. I thought it might help you, you know, cross-reference with your suspect list to maybe find a common ground that might have been where they met or something."

I put the paper in my pocket without looking at it, but I was secretly impressed.

And I had to admit that she probably _hadn't_ invited Bobby out here just to jump him.

I mean, could I blame her if she liked to look at him?

And admittedly, I'm quite a bit more prickly than he is, so I could understand why she'd chosen to call him over me.

"Does that help?" she questioned. "I mean, the Chief told me that you guys are trying to catch Ross' killer, right? Or at least, the man who blew his cover."

I was surprised that Moran had brought Denise into the fold, but it made sense. I mean, surely there was paperwork and logistics involved with me and Bobby doing this type of thing, even though we weren't technically with the department. Someone had to help run interference for Maas and Moran, and she'd been with Moran for a very long time, so he must trust her.

"Well, it certainly opens up our suspect pool," I admitted. "I guess we're back to looking at men and women instead of just men."

"You want my gut feeling on it?"

"Sure."

"I'd look more at women."

An hour later, Bobby and I were back at Logan's.

"You guys were fast," Logan remarked. "Did you decide to just dump her in the river instead of actually burying her?"

"Ha ha," I retorted. "No, she was fine. Actually, her news has changed our focus."

Which in truth, really bothered me.

Because if we were looking for a woman who would've had the knowledge and the ability to hang Ross out to dry, our main suspects would be McHale or Stahl.

Or possibly Lacey.

And I really liked all three of them.

"But Stahl was in the picture," Bobby pointed out, even though I hadn't said anything aloud. "So if it's her, she's working with someone."

And he had a point.

The picture that had been found with Ross' body, the one that the killer had left behind.

It was a shot of Ross and Stahl.

"McHale has a family," I reminded him. "And she's…I don't know. She's nice."

We'd spent a lot of time with her and Lacey lately.

A _lot_ of time.

Was that because they were trying to keep us close?

Were they sticking with the theory of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?

Did they know that we were looking into Ross' death?

"So where does that leave you?" Logan asked.

I looked at Bobby and shrugged. He was as baffled as me.

"We still need to talk to Banta," he said. "There's still the matter of his trips to Africa."

"Could Banta and Stahl be working together?" Logan suggested. "I mean, if you think she couldn't have done it alone."

It was a definite possibility.

Monday morning, we got to the federal building at eight-thirty and headed straight for Stahl's office.

We'd decided to take the direct approach and just ask her if she knew Isabelle Mullins.

The door was closed and the light was off.

"She's not here. She's off."

I turned around quickly and found McHale standing behind us. And for some reason, my hand gravitated toward my weapon.

"For how long?" Bobby asked. And he was covering, because I could tell that he'd been just as startled by her silent approach.

But damn, was I just being paranoid now?

I mean, Bobby and I had just spent nearly a month with McHale and I'd never had any indication that she was anything other than who she appeared to be.

Although that wasn't really true, was it?

She was a master at leading a double life. She was married with four children and yet she was a lesbian.

"I don't know for sure. But Casteel said for you two to report to him this morning."

"Do you know why?" I asked conversationally as we started walking down the hall.

"I have no idea," she said with a shrug. "But good luck."

She left us alone in the hall and I stopped to look at Bobby.

"Is it just me or does this place have a creepy feel this morning?" I asked him.

"We're getting close," he said quietly. "Wagons are being circled."

"Yeah, but which wagon? And by whom?"

It struck me for the hundredth time that I was so glad I'd joined Bobby on this case. I mean, aside from the obvious benefit of our relationship evolving, it was also dangerous.

If I'd still been with the department, I'd be worrying myself sick. At least now, we were doing this together.

"What does your gut say?" he asked me as we got on the elevator.

We'd gone over this a dozen times throughout the night as we'd snuggled together in the tiny bed in Logan's spare room. But neither of us had an answer.

It had been a lot easier when we suspected Beemer. I hated him.

But I'm nothing if not professional. And I've been separating personal feelings from work for years.

So what did my gut say?

"Before talking with Denise last night, I would've said Banta. But if it came down to which woman suspect would be able to sweet talk Isabelle, I'd have to say Lacey. And she did request us in the beginning. Maybe she wanted to keep a close watch."

"That's my thinking, too."

"But Bobby," I added. "Seriously, I'm at a loss here. Lacey is my guess, but I still find it nearly impossible to believe."

"Me, too," he agreed.

We got off of the elevator and went down the hall to Casteel's office.

"Agents Goren and Eames!" he greeted enthusiastically.

I still couldn't get a read on this guy either. He was a contradiction.

Friendly one minute, ornery the next.

At least with Ross, we'd always known where we stood, which was more often than not on his shit list. But still…

"Please sit down," Casteel continued.

"We heard that Agent Stahl is off today," I began, hoping to glean a bit more information from him.

"She's sick," he told us. "Some kind of flu thing. I don't know. I told her to take a few days. I don't need a damn bug making its way through the office."

"So should we report to Agent Lacey today?"

"I wanted to tell you two nice job on that therapist case. I know it got to be rather long, but Agent Lacey said that you both handled yourselves well," he deflected.

"Thank you, sir," Bobby said.

"I also wanted to remind you both that Quantico awaits. You know, everyone has a boss. Mine wants to know why I have two agents in my department who have yet to complete the required course."

"Well, you have kept us pretty busy," I reminded him.

"Yes, of course," he said with a wave. "But that ends today."

My heart sank at the realization of what he was about to say.

"Sir…" I began.

"Don't bother trying to avoid it," he said. "In fact, I think I may have found the perfect solution. There's a two-week refresher course for agents who have been on extended leave or those who have been reprimanded for violating policy. It starts tomorrow, and you'll be back by Thanksgiving. My boss agreed to let that suffice, so by you two going to this thing, it will serve two purposes. It will get my boss off my back, and it'll keep your plate cleared for the holiday, so to speak. Otherwise, you could end up in undercover for the rest of the year and I'm sure you have better places to spend your Thanksgiving. So go home and pack. It's a six-hour drive. You can be there by dinner."

And that was it. He was done with us.

This was going to suck.

"Two weeks of classes on how to be a better agent," I muttered as we went back to the elevator. "Physical training and ethics lessons…"

"And sleeping apart," Bobby added.

"Why do I get the feeling that we're being punished?"

"I don't think we are. I mean, it was supposed to be four months and now it's only two weeks. I think that Casteel believes he's being nice."

"Or he's getting rid of us again. Maybe there weren't any cases to send us on, so he's using this instead, just to keep us away from the federal building."

"If he wanted to get rid of us, he would've given us the full training course," he argued gently.

"I know," I admitted on a sigh. "I'm just…pissed."

The doors opened up in the parking garage and we headed for the car.

"Look at it this way. We'll be back for Thanksgiving. You'll be able to go have dinner with your family."

"_We'll_ be able to have dinner with my family," I countered. "You're coming with me."

"Alex…"

"We don't have to tell them about us. I mean, I'd love to. But I don't want them to have to lie."

"What are we going to tell them?"

"That we're friends," I answered simply. "We'll say that I'm still working undercover, but that as part of the cover, I let myself get arrested. That way, the bad guys think I'm in jail while I'm actually at Thanksgiving dinner."

"And me? What have I been doing since you fired me?"

Damn, I still hated hearing those words.

Eight months later and it still stung.

"You can be working for the Bureau," I told him. We were at the car by this point, but he stopped me before I could get in.

"Is it worth it?" he asked quietly, settling his hand along the of my neck and allowing his thumb to stroke my jaw.

"Is what worth it?"

"Having to come up with such an intricate story just so that I can eat dinner with your family."

And if I didn't know Bobby as well as I do, his words might have made me mad.

It _almost_ seemed as though he was trivializing the importance.

But he wasn't. He just didn't consider himself to be worth the effort.

"Absolutely," I assured him. "But if you don't want to go…"

"I want to go," he said. "I just don't want to make it more difficult on you. Besides, you haven't seen them in a long time, and I don't want to get in the way."

"Okay," I said, grabbing onto his belt loops and pulling him closer to me.

"Okay?"

"Okay, we won't go."

"We? What? Alex…"

"Either we go together. Or we stay home together."

"But…"

"Don't you sense a pattern here, Bobby? We've been through this already with all kinds of other topics. We're _partners_. In absolutely every sense of the word. Got it?"

"I got it," he replied as a slow smile spread across his face. "Now let's hurry up and go home so that we can get packed and then have some quality time in the bathroom before we get on the road."

"You really know how to romance a girl," I teased, although his words had caused my pulse to quicken.

"Two weeks of sleeping apart," he reminded me.

"We slept apart for ten years," I replied. "I'm guessing we can handle two weeks."

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "We slept apart for ten years before I knew what I was missing. I'm not sure if I can survive one night now."

And yeah, okay, so he did know about romance.

"Maybe I'll just sneak into your room at night."

"That's probably against the rules," he said, and his low gravelly voice was wreaking havoc on my system. He leaned down close to me, his lips hovering barely an inch from mine.

"Even better. You know how I feel about rule-breaking."

"I don't remember you liking it so much when I used to do it," he retorted, still teasing me by lingering close without touching.

"That's because I couldn't admit to you how hot it made me," I answered huskily, and he finally closed the distance, bringing his lips to mine with surprising intensity.

I stepped into him until he was backed against the car and I let myself relax into the moment. And it was actually several long moments before we both forced ourselves to pull away, mindful that we were still in the Bureau parking garage.

"You know you're going to be in so much trouble now," he said with a grin after walking around and climbing into the car.

"Why?" I asked him as I buckled my seat belt.

"Because you're going to be my boss pretty soon," he explained. And then he dropped his voice again to that raspy pitch that put a tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach. "And now I know you love it when I break the rules…"

Yeah, I was going to be in trouble.

But a good kind of trouble.

And I couldn't wait.

TBC...


	27. Chapter 27

**Bobby POV**

* * *

We survived the two weeks at Quantico.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

We kicked _ass _for our two weeks at Quantico.

We finished as the top two ranked agents from our training session.

And I'm not ashamed to admit that I wasn't number one. Alex was a machine on the firing range and managed to nudge me out of the top spot for the overall scores.

Not only that, but she also evaded security and slipped into my dorm room.

Every night.

So really, the two weeks weren't nearly as bad as we'd expected.

In fact, it was almost like a vacation.

And during those nights when I held her in my arms, we planned out our strategy for wrapping up the Ross case.

"We need to talk to that private investigator," Alex had suggested. "If he was following McHale for Stahl, then maybe he has evidence of something, something he doesn't realize."

"Like McHale meeting with Mullins?"

"Maybe."

"But he would've given it to Stahl," I'd reminded her. "So we're saying that she knows?"

"I have no idea what we're saying," she's admitted. "But it's a place to start."

And it was.

So we were going to talk to Dick Buster.

And Stahl.

And Banta.

And in the mean time, Denise was still chatting up Isabelle.

I was glad that the meeting between her and Alex had gone so well.

There was nothing, _nothing_ for her to be jealous about, so it made me feel a lot better to see that she had finally grasped that concept.

So we had our plan.

We got back to New York late on Wednesday evening, the night before Thanksgiving.

It was too late to talk to anyone about the case, so we'd relegated ourselves to the fact that considering it was a holiday weekend, things would have to wait until Monday.

But just in case, I'd put in a call to Buster. As expected, I had to leave a message.

But worst case, we'd go see him on our way to the federal building on Monday, and once we got to work, we'd go straight to Stahl.

So in the mean time, I was nervous about going to meet Alex's family.

Of course I'd met them before. On several occasions, actually.

But now I'd be meeting them as someone of greater significance.

Although _they_ didn't know that.

But they _did_ know that we were no longer partners. Or at least that's what they thought.

So as far as they were concerned, her invitation hadn't just been out of pity.

It had been out of friendship.

Although maybe they thought she still felt sorry for me since she'd had to fire me.

Maybe they _did_ think it was out of pity.

My head was swimming with all of the possibilities that kept marching through my brain.

What _did_ they know?

What would they _think_?

I understood why she didn't want to tell them about our relationship.

Her dad knew a lot of cops and her brother _was_ a cop and eventually she and I would be going back to the department so if our relationship had to be kept on the down-low, then it wouldn't be fair to ask them to lie, too.

But would we give ourselves away?

I mean, we'd been a couple for more than six months. We'd been pretending to be one for longer than that.

And the only time we had to behave ourselves was when we met with Maas or Moran, and it was a good possibility that even Maas knew about us.

Maybe this would be a good test.

"You don't have to wear a tie," Alex said as she came up behind me, slipping her arms around my waist.

It was Thursday morning and I'd been standing in front of the tie rack for several minutes while my thoughts wandered.

"I want to look nice for your family," I replied.

"You do," she said. "Just like you are. In fact, you're probably over-dressed. My dad rarely puts on anything but jeans anymore."

I was in slacks and a button-down shirt that was presently open at the collar, but I'd planned on adding the tie and jacket.

"Are you sure?"

"Bobby, are you nervous?" she asked in surprise.

"I'm…it's…"

I trailed off and instead led her by the arm into the bathroom. I didn't have a clue who, if anyone, was listening anymore, but I didn't need to share with them my innermost fears.

Once we were safely ensconced in the privacy of our bathroom, I started again.

"What if they don't like me?"

"They know you," she said, and I could tell that I'd confused her. "They already do like you."

"They like me as your partner," I clarified. "This is different."

"You think they won't like you as my friend?"

"What if they don't? What if they were relieved that you fired me and that we don't work together anymore?"

"Bobby, my dad chastised me for firing you, remember?" she told me. She put her hand on my clean-shaven cheek and moved closer to me.

I'd had to lose the beard when we went to Quantico, and I had to admit that as much as I loved feeling her hands running over the whiskers, the touch of her fingers on the bare skin of my cheeks was just as enticing.

"You're over-thinking it," she continued softly.

"Can you blame me?" I asked, although I did start to relax.

She was right.

I was over-thinking it.

But with so many things in my head it was hard to turn it all off.

And I _really_ didn't want to screw this up.

I mean, making a mistake in front of Moran would be bad, and it might cost me my job, but this was her _family_.

And if she didn't want to tell them yet, then I certainly wasn't going to be the one to let the cat out of the bag.

"Maybe you need a distraction," she suggested, and then she purposefully dropped her eyes to just below my belt. I swear, the object of her attention moved just from the heat of her gaze. "You know, relieve some of that tension."

She slowly began unbuckling my belt and now, without a doubt, there was some serious movement down below.

"We'll be late," I warned her.

And we were.

But I was definitely more relaxed.

**

* * *

**

Alex POV

Bobby had been wound up tight while we got ready to go to my parents' house, and I could understand that.

It was a somewhat awkward situation since it would be our first time going there as a couple and yet we couldn't admit that we were together.

Although I was on the fence about whether or not to just go ahead and tell them.

I mean, obviously I didn't want them to be responsible for keeping my secret, but at the same time, how long would it go on? I hoped to be with the NYPD until I retired, so was I never going to tell them about Bobby?

But in the end, we decided to stick with our plan of keeping quiet.

We had enough going on in our lives at the moment.

Once everything was settled and we'd put the rat responsible for Ross' death behind bars and we were back with the department, well…then we'd come clean with my family.

So instead, I did my best to put Bobby's mind at ease. Or at least, make him forget about everything for a little while.

And yeah, it made us late, but it was worth it.

I'd never been with a man who was so focused on me while making love.

And maybe that sounds silly.

But with Bobby, I never felt like it was mechanical or routine or a means to an end.

With him, it was as if he literally could not get enough of me.

I'd teased him once about how they must love him in the produce department of a grocery store.

Well, he's like that with me, too.

He loves to touch and feel and taste…and he's never in any hurry.

So yeah, we were definitely late.

But my family is large and informal and no one seemed to care.

In fact, they were just all really happy to see me.

And Bobby.

I loved how welcome they made him feel.

And it was all I could do not to laugh when my dad cornered me in the den.

"So he's forgiven you?"

"What?"

"Bobby," he explained as though I was slow. "I guess since he's here, he's forgiven you."

The firing.

I was absolutely never going to live that down.

At least not until I could tell him the truth.

"Yeah, Dad," I told him. "We talked about it, and he understands."

"Well, I still think it was a crappy thing to do."

"So do I," I agreed. "But we're past it. And he's happy where he is."

"So you two are…what? Friends?"

"We've always been friends."

"You haven't always brought him over for Thanksgiving dinner. Are you still trying to make it up to him?"

"Dad, we're fine," I insisted. "There's no making up to be done."

I held his gaze as he watched me carefully and then he gave me a sharp nod.

"Okay. Good. Because he's a good man."

"I know," I responded, secretly thrilled that he was so supportive of Bobby.

I had a pretty good feeling that when we did finally break the news to them, no one would have any problem with it.

"So tell me about your narcotics thing."

"It's an undercover," I said on a chuckle. "You know I can't talk about it."

I'd already explained to him that I was officially in jail over the holiday weekend.

"Alex, honey," he said, putting his arms around me and pulling me into a hug. "I'm your father. You can talk to me about anything. I know how to keep a secret."

"Come on, you two," my mother said as she poked her head into the doorway. "Dinner's on the table."

My father let me go, but looked at me pointedly for another minute before turning to go into the dining room.

Okay, so maybe we really weren't fooling anyone at all.

Dinner was typical. Everyone talked too loud and ate too much and then most of the kids trickled down into the basement to play video games while the adults began cleaning up the mess.

"I've got this, Alex," my mother said. "You and Bobby go relax. I'm sure he has to work tomorrow, and eventually you'll get bailed out…"

She was a real trooper to deal with so many cops in the family. And I knew that it bugged her to think about me being on undercover duty with Narcotics, but I still thought it was best not to tell her the truth.

Because really, what we were doing was probably even more dangerous.

The closer we got to finding out the truth, the more dangerous it was going to get.

Obviously, our perp hadn't thought twice about killing a police captain. Surely killing me and Bobby wouldn't be much of a stretch, if it was thought to be a necessity to maintain anonymity.

"I don't go back until Monday," Bobby corrected as he carried a stack of dirty plates into the kitchen.

"I appreciate the offer, Bobby. But I've got this," she insisted as she took the plates from his hands.

I knew when not to argue with my mother, so I guided Bobby towards the den.

Most of the other men had migrated into the living room where the football game was on the television, so we had the den to ourselves.

"They absolutely love you," I said quietly as we sat down on the couch. I'd left the lights off and suddenly a nap seemed like a great idea.

"That's because they don't know I'm sleeping with their daughter," he whispered.

"Maybe," I said on a chuckle. "But somehow I think they'll be okay with that, too."

We sat in silence for several minutes.

I wasn't sure where Bobby's mind was, but I knew what I was thinking about.

Monday.

Stahl.

Banta.

McHale.

I was seriously starting to think that maybe Banta was working with one of those two women.

Or…or what if it was just Banta?

If Isabelle went both ways, it stood to reason that she might have been finessed by him.

He was charming.

Or at least, some women thought so.

I just thought he was an asshole.

But still…it was possible. So maybe I shouldn't let Denise's revelation sway my feelings too much.

Banta had gone to Africa. Twice. Banta was investigating Beemer and had the opportunity to plant evidence. And he was the one who'd put Casteel on my trail when it came time to find Beemer's killer.

"You're thinking too hard," Bobby said softly. "Your whole body is tense."

"Maybe you should do something about that," I challenged.

"In your mom and dad's house? I don't think so."

"Chicken."

He laughed at me and then couldn't seem to stop a yawn, so I scooted to the end of the couch and then patted my lap.

"Lie down and take a nap," I offered. "We don't have to leave any time soon."

"How would that look?"

"If you're laying on the couch sleeping? It'll look like you're tired."

"With my head in your lap?"

"Quit worrying," I assured him. He settled his head on my legs and I immediately began to run my fingers through his hair. "It's all perfectly innocent."

"You never did this before," he murmured. "I wish you had."

"Me, too."

He let out a heavy sigh and curled one arm around my legs so that it tucked beneath the outside of my thigh. I could feel him relaxing incrementally as I continued to stroke his hair.

I definitely wished we'd done this before.

All of those years we wasted, purposely avoiding all physical contact with each other.

How crazy was that?

Even if we hadn't admitted to loving each other, we could've least provided each other with the comfort of some harmless affection.

_Although, it likely wouldn't have stayed harmless_, I admitted to myself.

Because touching Bobby was like a drug.

And I was most definitely addicted.

I smiled at the thought and then a sound in the doorway caught me by surprise.

My mom stood there with two brandy snifters in her hand and a smug look on her face.

I quickly stilled my hand and carefully moved it away from his head.

"We were just…he's just…I was…"

_Great, Alex_, I thought. _Make it worse by stuttering through an explanation_.

I felt like I was sixteen again.

Of course, Bobby was oblivious, already having slipped into a deep sleep.

"I was bringing you two an after-dinner drink," she explained in a quiet voice. "But I guess Bobby doesn't need one."

She stepped fully into the room and set one glass down on the coffee table and offered the other one to me.

"He's been working a lot," I explained, silently willing myself not to blush. I took the glass from her and tossed back half of the brandy in one gulp. My mother looked at my quizzically, but didn't say anything, so I added, "Thank you for making him feel so welcome here today."

"He's welcome here any day."

And she kept smiling at me, so I had to say something.

"Mom, it's not…we're just friends."

"I know."

"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I mean, we're close. And he's my best friend, but it's not…there's nothing…we're not…"

"Alex, for Heaven's sake," she said with a dismissive wave. "When did you forget how to finish a sentence?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I don't need you to spell it out for me," she went on. "You're not sleeping with him." And then she winked at me and added, "Yet."

"Mom…"

"It's fine. It's none of my business."

"We're friends," I said again, this time a little more firmly.

"Okay, sweetheart. No need to get yourself worked up. You two relax and send Bobby upstairs when he wakes up. Your father bought some new cigars he wants to share."

My mom left without waiting for my response.

She'd completely flustered me, but I couldn't seem to make myself be too upset about it.

"You lied to your mother," Bobby murmured, his face still pressed against my thigh.

"And you were faking sleep?" I asked in surprise. I put my hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to turn onto his back.

"I thought it would be best if I stayed out of that one."

"I think I was right earlier. You are a chicken," I teased. "One great big chi-"

He kept me from finishing my sentence by bringing my lips down to his. And there was something about the way he took his time with the kiss, leisurely exploring in a sleepy, comfortable way that made me ache for him.

He finally pulled back from me and then he ran his tongue over his lips.

"You taste like brandy," he said.

"Is that a good thing?"

"I'm not sure," he said, skimming his hand up my arm and along the side of my neck. "Let me try it again."

This is what I meant about Bobby being addictive.

Because I've made out on the couch in my parents' den before.

Many times, actually, back when I was still in high school.

A couple of times in college, even.

But now here I was, forty-three years old and yet I was completely caught up in the moment.

And maybe it was because, considering our location, we knew that kissing was as far as we were going to take it. I don't know. But the feel of his fingers in my hair and his lips on mine…it was nearly enough to put me over the edge.

"Where's Aunt Alex?" I heard my niece call out from down the hall. And that was enough to bring us back to reality.

Bobby quickly sat up on the couch and I ran my hand over my hair to smooth it out and then tossed back the rest of the brandy. Bobby reached for his glass and drank it all in one swallow. By the time my niece came into the room, we were mostly back to normal.

As it turned out, I was needed for my video game prowess, so I headed off to the basement while Bobby went to smoke a cigar with my father. An hour later, I rescued him from a debate about who was better, the FBI or the NYPD. Considering our current situation, there was no way that discussion would end well.

"We'd better go," I said to my dad.

"Wait, we didn't hear what Bobby had to say," my brother Sean interrupted. Of course, he was the one who'd started it since he was a cop with the 3-4.

"Next time," I promised. I grabbed Bobby's hand, and then realized what I was doing and quickly let go. "Come on."

"Hey, the little lady says go, you'd better go," Sean joked.

"This little lady is gonna kick your ass if you keep that up," I warned.

"Language, Alex," my dad scolded, although he was grinning. He loved when me and Sean picked at each other.

We finally managed to say all of our goodbyes and escape my parents' house. It was nearly eleven o'clock, but I was buzzing with energy.

"That was so great," Bobby told me as I drove us home. "Really. I'm just…thank you. I'm so glad you asked me to go with you."

"You're welcome," I replied, pleased by the compliment. "It's just the first of many, right?"

"Right."

"And maybe next time you won't be such a chicken," I added with a grin.

He chuckled at me as he picked up his cell phone from the console where he'd left it.

"I missed a call from Buster," he said excitedly. He caught my eye and there it was again. That feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not only did I love what he could do to me physically, but I loved how much he enjoyed the hunt. He and I were of one mind when it came to solving puzzles.

I waited while he checked his voice mail, and then he hung up and looked at me.

"Well?" I asked.

"He said that we can come by tonight."

"This late?"

"His message says anytime. Apparently his office is out of his home."

"Did he say what he'd found? Is it anything good?"

"I don't know," he answered. "But he has all of the negatives."

"So if he was following McHale, and she met with Isabelle…"

"Uh huh," he answered with a grin.

"Well then. Let's go meet Dick Buster."

TBC...


	28. Chapter 28

**Bobby POV**

* * *

We were on the cusp of something huge and we both knew it.

The excitement in the air was palpable as Alex drove the car through the nearly-empty streets.

"It could be nothing," I warned her. "Hell, he might not even tell us anything. We don't have any official right to order him to give us the negatives."

"Maybe not, but we can get a read on him. And if we have to, maybe Maas can get a warrant."

"On what grounds?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess we'd better finesse the information from him then, huh? I mean, at least he called us back. He's willing to talk to some extent."

She had a point. So I kept my hopes high and my expectations low as we drove up to the Bronx.

"Is this it?" she asked me dubiously. The place was fairly dilapidated and I could see why she had her doubts.

"It's the address that he gave me," I confirmed.

"I wonder where Stahl got his name," she remarked as she reached in the glove box for her weapon.

I didn't blame her.

I got mine out, too.

This place looked like a living advertisement for where _not_ to visit when in New York.

"You think he's in the yellow pages?"

"It's more likely that he's on the FBI's most wanted list," she retorted.

"She probably figured that she wouldn't have to worry about running into him in a social situation."

Together we cautiously crossed the sidewalk and went up to the main entrance of the apartment building. The writing next to the buzzers was barely legible, but I managed to make out the letters B-s—r.

"Yeah?" a voice shouted when I pushed the button.

"It's Agents Goren and Eames," I announced. A high pitched squeal began to emit from the intercom and then the front door latch clicked open. I quickly grabbed the door handle and opened it up, letting Alex into the lobby in front of me.

But let me clarify.

When I say lobby, I mean the closet-sized space just inside the front door that smelled of urine and smoke. The floor was concrete and the walls were covered in x-rated graffiti.

"Huh," Alex muttered with feigned thoughtfulness as she leaned closer to read one of the pornographic suggestions that had been tagged on the wall. "Is that even possible?"

"Come on," I said on a chuckle. I tipped my head towards the stairwell door and we went into an even smaller and smellier space.

It's not easy to climb six flights of stairs while holding your breath, but we both managed because not breathing was preferable to smelling the stench. I had a feeling that our clothes were going to be a total loss. There were some odors that just never came out.

The sixth floor hallway had a hint of fresh air and I noticed that a small window at the end of the hall was broken, allowing the cool night air inside.

I was tempted to go stand in front of it and just breathe for a minute, but at that moment, the door across the hall opened up and a man poked his head out, looking both ways quickly before settling his gaze on Alex.

"Are you the agents?"

"Yes," she responded.

"Get in here before you start a riot."

He stood back, holding his door open for us, so together we went inside.

"And why exactly would we start a riot?" I asked after he closed the door behind us.

I was slightly leery, but mostly just because the situation was so strange. I mean, we were both armed, and this guy was actually a licensed private investigator, so it's not like I expected that we were in serious danger.

But it was just…odd.

The place was dark and there was incense burning on a table in the middle of the room.

Music was playing on an old Victrola, an unusual slow, stirring mix of brass instruments.

The man himself was dressed in jeans with no shirt. He had several gold chains around his neck, some of them hanging all the way down to his belt buckle.

"Most of the people who live around here don't much care for cops," he replied in answer to my question.

"And you do?"

"I'm a live and let live kind of guy. Are _you_?" he asked pointedly.

"Absolutely."

"What division are you with?" he asked as he stared at me, seemingly sizing me up.

"You mean, do we care if you're in possession of a controlled substance?" Alex clarified.

He turned to her and flashed a broad, toothy grin.

"Oh, come on now, honey. Who said anything about drugs?"

As far as I was concerned, this guy could be growing dyroxia plants in his bathroom. It's not like I was going to arrest him for anything.

I just really wanted to know what he knew.

As usual, Alex was right there with me. She held his gaze for a minute and then shook her head.

"Your message said that you have negatives," she stated, getting down to business.

She suddenly seemed in a hurry, and I didn't blame her.

Because I'd decided that it wasn't incense that was burning on the table and if we hung around in here much longer, we were both going to get high.

I might not have been too far off with the idea of dyroxia in the bathroom.

Although maybe it was more like cannabis.

"I do, honey, but I don't see a warrant in your hand," he answered coyly.

"Lucky for you," I told him. "Because the warrant might mention something about possession, right? Didn't we already establish that? Just tell us about that job. You were hired by Wendy Stahl, right?"

"I guess. I mean, that's the name that she gave me, but it's not like she offered up any proof. See, it was all done over the phone."

"And you remember this just off the top of your head?" I questioned. "It was last February, right?"

"I did a little work for her in February," he agreed. "March, too. And I remember her because I don't get me too many FBI agents for clients, if you know what I'm saying."

"I can't imagine," Alex retorted. "So…Dick. What specifically did she ask you to do?"

"Specifically? She said to follow this chick and take some pictures."

"This chick. Which chick?"

"She didn't give me a name. But she said that she worked in the federal building. And she sent me a picture of the chick so that I'd know who to follow. She told me that she suspected this broad of cheating with her husband."

"Wait," I said quickly. "Stahl wanted you to follow a woman who she thought was sleeping with _her_ husband? Are you sure that's what she said?"

"Yeah, man," he said with a nod. "She was pretty sure about it."

Which had me more confused than ever.

Stahl didn't have a husband. McHale had a husband.

But both were gay so if there was any cheating going on, wouldn't it have been with a woman?

"Why did it take two months?" I asked him.

"I couldn't catch the two of them together, you know what I'm saying?"

"You couldn't catch them together at all, or you couldn't catch them doing something incriminating?" Alex clarified.

"I saw them talking a few times. But that was it. So I told the chick, lady your man ain't stepping out. Or if he is, it ain't with this broad. I offered to follow the dude instead, and see if maybe he was banging somebody else, but she got real pissy with me and said to just take the fucking pictures."

"So up to that point, you hadn't taken any?"

"Nah, man. Like I said, they weren't doing anything."

"So then you took pictures of them talking," Alex stated.

"Right. And I sent them to her. She sent me a check and we was done."

"She paid you with a check?"

"A cashier's check," he stated.

"Where did you mail the pictures?"

"To a post office box in Manhattan."

"But you didn't send her the negatives?"

"She didn't ask for them. She asked for pictures. I guess she wanted to confront the old man or something, I don't know. If you ask me, she probably just pissed him off by showing him photos of him and some chick chatting each other up. I tried to tell her to wait til she had something good, but..."

"Does she know that you kept the negatives?" I interrupted.

"Hey, yo, she didn't ask and I didn't say, but that's my _practice_, man. Because you just never know, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

My mind was running with possibilities and I didn't want to rush Buster into giving us the negatives because I didn't want him to buck up on us but I was also starting to feel a tingly sensation in my head.

I took a few steps farther away from the smoky coffee table.

"We really need to see those negatives," Alex said quietly. "You don't have to give them to us. Just let us take a look."

"You know what, honey?" Buster said, once again grinning broadly enough to show his gold tooth. "I like you. Wait here."

He left us in the living room and went down a hall. I glanced at Alex and her eyes looked a little glassy.

"We need to get out of here," I told her. "We're both going to be high."

"At least it smells better than the stairwell," she replied, but she took a few steps away from the table, too.

"So what do you think?" I whispered. "Stahl hired him to follow…who? McHale, to watch her with her own husband? Maybe she'd promised Stahl that they weren't romantic anymore and she was suspicious."

"I don't know. That sounds pretty farfetched, don't you think?"

"Okay. How about this? What if it wasn't Stahl who hired him?"

"Someone used her name?"

"Maybe. Buster never saw her, so it could have been anybody."

"Who do you think it was?"

"Well, Banta knew about it, didn't he?"

"Wait a minute," Alex said, shaking her head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would Banta hire a PI to follow McHale?"

"This might not have anything to do with anything," I declared in frustration.

"Here you go, honey," Buster said when he came back in the room. He had a strip of negatives with him and a flashlight.

"You're pretty high tech, huh?" she quipped.

"Don't knock it, pretty lady."

And yeah, he was harmless with his flirtatious chatter which was the only reason why he was still standing.

Alex turned on the flashlight and then held the strip up in front of it so that we could make out the black and white images on the negative.

"Oh my God," she muttered. "Bobby…"

"Uh huh."

"It's…"

"Uh huh."

"From..."

"Yeah."

"Now what?"

"I have no idea."

TBC...


	29. Chapter 29

**Bobby POV**

* * *

We left Buster's place armed with the negatives and the address to where he'd mailed the pictures.

"I think if we'd have stayed in there for ten more minutes, I would've been completely stoned," Alex remarked as we hurried down the stairs. "I hope it was just marijuana that he had burning and not something worse."

"Do you feel okay?" I asked her.

Because I was feeling a little fuzzy and she was half my size.

"Yeah," she responded. "Just…I don't know…slow. I mean, those pictures, Bobby. I can't seem to grasp what it means."

"We just need some fresh air," I decided.

We quickened our pace and finally emerged in the lobby. There were now two guys standing just inside the door, and when they saw us, they quickly dropped their hands and turned their backs to us.

"That whole damn building is toxic," Alex said after we got outside. "Did you smell what those guys were smoking?"

"I held my breath," I admitted.

"I wish I had," she muttered.

We stopped on the sidewalk next to the car and each of us took in several deep, cleansing breaths.

"Okay," she said at last. "Okay, this is better."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Uh huh. I just hope the department doesn't make us do a drug screen before we go back to work."

"So…we need to track this PO Box. We can go over there with pictures of all of our suspects and see which one the clerk picks out."

Because even though the name given to Buster was Wendy Stahl, we had our doubts as to whether or not it was actually her. Especially now.

"Assuming he picks out any of them. It's been a long time," I reminded her. "The clerk who rented out the box might not even still work there."

"True," she agreed. "But it's a start. Because whoever hired Buster is our mole."

And to think we'd only learned of him through a casual conversation with McHale.

Because of her off-hand remark, we now held in our hands the negatives of pictures of Stahl and Ross on the ferry.

One of these negatives was for the photo left at the scene of Ross' murder.

We debated calling Maas, but considering it was after midnight we decided against it.

It was tough having this kind of case-breaking information and yet not being able to do anything about it. The adrenaline was flowing and questions were storming my brain and yet I was just supposed to sit on my hands and wait.

But that was exactly what we had to do.

The next day, we went to the UPS Store where the post office box was located, but the employee turnover rate there was astronomical.

Apparently seven clerks had come and gone since February, and the box had changed hands more than a dozen times.

However, they were able to pull up the record as to who had rented the box.

Danny Ross.

"Isn't the applicant required to write down a permanent address?" I asked him.

"They did. It says One Police Plaza," the guy replied triumphantly.

And even though the turnover rate for this place was high, it appeared as though the IQ requirements for obtaining this job was at the opposite end of the spectrum.

"What kind of identification is required to rent a box?" Alex asked the clerk. "I mean, let's say I want one."

"Sure, okay," the guy replied. And he actually pulled out a card in preparation to rent her a box. He handed her the form along with a pen. "Fill this out and I'll need the first month's payment and then you're good to go."

She looked at me and rolled her eyes before turning back to the clerk.

"I don't actually want one," she clarified. "I'm asking you what you would do if I were to say…oh, I don't know…that I'm Taylor Swift and I want a box."

"And I'm telling you, Taylor," he said pointedly. "Fill out the card and pay the rent and you've got one."

"Just like that. You don't need to see my ID?"

"Why? You just told me your name."

The store phone rang so the clerk stepped away from us to answer it and Alex let out an annoyed sigh.

"We're no farther along than we were before we got here. It obviously didn't take any kind of identification expert to come in here and rent a box using Ross' name."

"I'm surprised the person didn't ask for the negatives," I remarked. "I mean, our trail would be cold if we didn't have those. The person who hired Buster was Stahl, and the pictures were mailed to a box rented to Ross. Both leads are dead ends."

"Maybe our guy didn't consider that there were negatives. Actual film photography is a lost art. Most people use digital now."

"True," I agreed thoughtfully.

"And he probably thought he was being cute by using Ross' name for the box."

"He," I commented. "So are we back to thinking it's a man? Banta?"

"Not necessarily," she said. She held my gaze for a minute longer and then shook her head. "I just don't know."

"Let's go," I said. "It's almost time to meet Maas, and this guy sure isn't going to tell us anything we don't already know."

We headed for the exit as the clerk got off the phone.

"Taylor! You don't want a box?" he called out to us.

"Not today," Alex called back over her shoulder, and then she muttered, "What an idiot."

An hour later, we were seated in a diner in Queens.

I was starting to feel like a diner connoisseur after eight months of these clandestine meetings.

"You've got the negative for the photo found on Ross' body?" Maas asked in surprise after we filled him in.

"That's right. Someone hired a private detective to follow Agent Stahl," I told him.

"And the box was in Ross' name," he mumbled. "Somebody's got some balls."

"Not really. The place was really lax about showing proof of identity."

"So what do you think? Who's at the top of your suspect list?"

I glanced at Alex and gave her a nod.

"Banta. Maybe. Or McHale," she began uncertainly.

"Isn't McHale the one who told you about Buster?" Maas questioned.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But if she hired him while pretending to be Stahl, then she might have told us so that we'd start looking closer at Stahl."

"Right," Alex said. "And Banta's the one who supposedly told McHale about Buster. So if it's not her, then maybe he let the cat out of the bag since it would ultimately be misinformation."

"Not thinking about the negatives."

"We can only guess that the assumption was that it was digital as opposed to film."

"That's a pretty big assumption considering how damaging the negatives are," Maas replied.

"Is it?" Alex countered. "I mean, we have the negatives but we're still no closer to finding the mole."

"So what's your next step?"

"I think we need to go to Isabelle," I said. "We confront her with the fact that her computer accessed my file and we just point blank ask her who she was friendly with last winter."

"The downside is that if she's somehow in on it then she may lie. Or at least, she'll blow the whistle about your investigation," Maas pointed out. "You could have wasted the past eight months."

He had a point.

Although, I would never call these eight months a waste.

As job-oriented as I am, and as much as I want to nail the guy who outted Ross, I was still grateful for this time in the sense that it had brought me and Alex together.

But, like I said, he had a point about it potentially blowing the investigation.

"What are our other options?" Alex asked. "We can hit up Banta and ask him about his trips to Africa. We can corner McHale and ask her if she knows Isabelle. But I'd bet that the two of them are much more adept at lying than Isabelle, and we still run the risk of exposing our cover. If Banta's not our guy, then he'll be outraged by our suspicion and he'll tell anyone who'll listen."

"And if it's not McHale, she'll tell Lacey," I added. "Maybe even Stahl."

Maas nodded and leaned back in his seat.

"So?" he asked.

"What?" Alex replied.

"What are you two going to do? This is your show, not mine. I'm just here to offer support."

I looked at Alex again as I mentally rolled through our options.

We'd been waiting for a break, and this was it. Now we had to go with our gut and make a move.

But what did my gut say?

Isabelle.

Denise seemed to think that she was an innocent victim in this thing, and if that was true, then she'd keep quiet.

And even if Denise was wrong about Isabelle then maybe we'd still be able to keep her quiet with the threat of prosecution.

So we had our best shot with her, because as far as going to the other two, I was equally unsure about each of them.

I was more inclined to think it was a woman, but yet Banta seemed like the more likely suspect.

And of course, I couldn't forget about Lacey and Stahl.

So the field was too broad.

I realized that Maas was watching us a split second after it occurred to me that we'd been staring at each other through the entirety of the thought process.

Although, in our defense, we'd done that long before we'd become an item. For some reason, looking at Alex helped me think.

I raised my eyebrow at Alex and waited to hear her conclusion.

"Isabelle," she said firmly.

"Me, too," I agreed.

"Okay," Maas said. "She's out of town for the weekend. She told Denise that she was going to visit family in Connecticut."

"So, Monday," I stated.

"Yes and no," Maas replied. "Monday, _I'll _talk to her."

"But…"

"No buts. If she _is_ in on it, then she'll think it's just me who's doing the investigating. It'll save your cover."

"But if she's in on it, then it'll put you in danger. Yours could be the next picture handed over to Hassan," Alex said with concern.

"Maybe. But if that's the case, then I'll just have to be more careful. And you two will have to start meeting with Moran," he replied with a wry grin. And then he reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Which reminds me, he told me to give this to you."

"Moran?" Alex questioned as she accepted the envelope.

"Uh huh," he answered as he got up from the table. "Keep a low profile over the weekend, and I'll be in touch by noon on Monday."

He left us alone and I watched as Alex opened the envelope.

"What is it?"

"It's…um…a study guide for the captain's exam," she said. "And a letter."

I waited patiently as she skimmed over Moran's letter.

"He signed me up for the next testing date," she said. "It's in three weeks."

"That's great," I said as relief flooded through me. Moran really _did_ want us back.

And he really wanted to make Alex a captain.

"Yeah," she continued. "Apparently, he hadn't signed me up yet because he was afraid of putting my name on the list in case it was accessed by someone, but Denise changed the security on the file and put a flag on it so now if anyone looks, she'll know about it."

I put my arm around her and hugged her close to me.

"You're going to be Captain Eames," I whispered.

"Well, I have to pass first."

"Like I said," I assured her. "Captain Eames. I like the sound of that."

And I really did.

I was so thrilled that being partnered with me hadn't derailed her career.

And of course, she'd told me all along that she didn't care about things like that, but how could she not?

She'd worked hard to get where she was, and she deserved it.

I couldn't wait to wrap up this case and get back to the NYPD. I'd get to stand back and watch her shine.

"You know," I added, still holding her close. "I've never made love to a captain before."

"Well, if all goes well, we might be able to remedy that pretty soon."

"I'm not sure that I can wait. How about if today I make love to a lieutenant?" I suggested. "After all, Maas did suggest that we lay low for the weekend."

"I'm not sure that's what he had in mind," she said on a laugh.

"I'm pretty sure it's not," I agreed. "But what he doesn't know…"

"And Lieutenant? Detective," she corrected. She hadn't stuck around long enough to get used to her title and she liked to be obstinate about it. "I'm a detective."

"You're an agent. Special Agent Detective Lieutenant soon-to-be Captain Alex Eames. I'm not sure if there will be room in the bed for all of us," I teased.

"Then I'll just be Alex," she countered, running her hand over my chest and leaning in close, her lips mere inches from mine. "How about that?"

"That's all I'll ever need," I promised as I closed the last bit of space between us. "Just Alex."

TBC...


	30. Chapter 30

**Bobby POV**

* * *

Monday morning.

I was starting to feel like it was D-Day.

Something was going to happen today, one way or another.

Alex and I had spent the weekend on edge. Neither of us could quit thinking about our possible suspects and the duplicity involved with this thing and who amongst our peers might actually be responsible for getting Ross killed.

Of course, we couldn't talk about any of this out loud.

Not in the apartment, anyway.

So we'd gone for walks and out to eat and we'd spent time in the bathroom.

Actually, we'd taken a couple of long, hot baths while I quizzed Alex on what she needed to know for her exam.

I had no doubt that she'd ace it.

And as excited for her as I was, I did have to admit to a little bit of apprehension about my fate.

I'd have to break in a new partner.

And even though I would obviously never find one that compared to Alex, I would have to accept the fact that I would need to play nice.

I certainly wouldn't want to make too much trouble for the boss.

So I promised myself that whoever I ended up with, I would not give a repeat performance of my brief stint with Bishop.

That had been a disaster and while she had been much less than desirable as a partner, I also had to admit that some of our troubles had been my fault.

I'd simply been unable to cope with anyone but Alex.

But this time would be different.

This time, Alex would still be at Major Case.

And she'd also be in my bed.

So yeah, I'd learn to deal.

But so Monday morning, she and I went to the federal building together.

"You know, even if Isabelle fingers who was chummy with her around the time of the database access that doesn't necessarily mean that person is our mole," Alex said reasonably as we got onto the elevator.

We'd been down this road several times over the past three days, but talking it out was all we could do until we heard from Maas.

And of course, she was right. Accessing my file didn't scream mole. It was unethical, but still…although there was the matter of accessing Ross' file, too. That was a little more damning but it wasn't the nail in the coffin.

But the hope was that combining Isabelle's confession with what we already knew would allow us to narrow our focus.

"Let's wait to hear from Maas," I said quietly. "And then we'll go talk to…whomever."

We got off the elevator and went down the hall to Stahl's office. We hadn't spoken with her since before we'd gone to Port Jervis. That case had lasted nearly a month and then she'd been out sick and we'd been sent to Quantico.

"Goren and Eames," she said pleasantly after Alex knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Come on in."

"I hope you're feeling better," Alex said. "Casteel said that you had the flu."

"Yes, and I'm sorry about that."

"You're sorry that you were sick?"

"Casteel took advantage of the fact that I was absent to send you guys off to Quantico. You have me to blame for two weeks of hell. Although I heard that you both did very well."

"It wasn't so bad," I told her. "And two weeks was better than sixteen."

"Definitely," she agreed. "So, have a seat."

Alex and I sat down across from her and waited to hear about our next assignment.

Although as I looked at her, I had some trouble concentrating because the images from the negatives came to mind.

Would she have hired a private investigator on herself?

It was plausible.

But then why the fake name on the post office box?

If she was going to go that far, why not use a random fake name with Buster?

"First and second place, huh? Casteel couldn't stop talking about you two this morning. I met him for coffee and he was bursting with pride as though he'd trained you himself."

"I'm sure he appreciates boosting the image of his field office," I replied.

I wasn't used to being called in to a superior's office for the purpose of accolades.

Usually it was for reprimands.

Although, how would it be when Alex was my boss?

Would she call me in and yell at me behind closed doors?

Would she put a mark in my jacket?

Maybe I'd have to be on a little better behavior. I'd hate to put her in that position.

I'd also have to insist that if I _did_ screw up then she'd have to treat me like every other detective.

I realized that Stahl was still talking, so I forced myself to focus on her conversation.

"I wanted to apologize for how I spoke with the two of you the last time you were in here. I know that some time has passed, but I also don't want it to be the elephant in the room."

"You were upset," Alex said reasonably. "You're allowed."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take it out on my agents," she insisted. "It was unprofessional of me, and it won't happen again."

"Apology accepted," I said.

"Good. Okay, I'm glad that we got that out of the way. Agent Lacey has requested the two of you any time that you become available, so if it's alright with you, I'd like to send you to work with her."

"She has a case?" I asked. I liked working with Lacey, but I really didn't want us to get sent out of town again. I wanted to wrap this damn thing up.

"Actually, she's cleaning up some paperwork that managed to accumulate while you guys were in Port Jervis."

"Okay, sure," Alex said.

"Of course, she's up next in the rotation, so if something comes in…"

"We understand," I replied as I got up from the chair. I followed Alex out of the room and we headed in the direction of Lacey's office.

"Was it just me, or were you trying to picture her as the mole?" I said quietly to Alex as we walked down the hall.

"It's not just you," she agreed. "But I don't see it. You know, with the way Hassan was cleaning house, she's lucky they didn't try to take her out, too."

"Well, she wasn't trying to infiltrate his organization," I reasoned. "I don't think he's too afraid of law enforcement."

"Are you two gonna stand in the hall all day or are you going to get to work?"

It was Lacey and she was headed in our direction with a smile on her face and a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

"If all you've got is paperwork, we might stand in the hall," Alex joked.

"It's all I've got for now," she admitted. "But I've got my fingers crossed."

So we the three of us went into her office and got to work. We spent the next couple of hours dotting I's and crossing T's along with carrying on sporadic conversation.

"What's Banta up to today?" Alex asked as she put yet another completed form on the stack on Lacey's desk.

"Oh, so you can tell he's not in the building, huh?" Lacey laughed. "He's something, isn't he? He's got enough ego for three men and yet barely enough ass for one."

"That's a good description," Alex agreed. "So he's out on a case?"

"He had to testify in court today," she explained. "But you know, don't let his bluster fool you. He's a decent enough guy. I mean, if he weren't then he wouldn't do what he does."

"Which is…what exactly?" I asked.

"Oh, you know. The thing with Global Crossroad."

"What is that?" Alex asked.

Lacey finally looked up from her paperwork.

"You haven't heard about it? Well, see now that's the thing with Banta I guess. If he manages to talk some innocent young thing into his bed he wants to post it on Facebook, but when he uses his two weeks of vacation every year to volunteer in Madagascar, well…he's all hush-hush."

_Banta volunteered in Africa? _

I tried to keep the shock from my face as I caught Alex's eye. His unsupported trips had been the main reason we kept him so high on our suspect list. But he'd been going over there to…volunteer?

"How long has he been doing that?" Alex asked her, although she kept her eyes locked on mine.

"I'm not sure. A few years now, I think. His trip this year fell through, which was why he got stuck with some unused vacation time."

I was only halfway listening because I was trying to process this information.

McHale was our other main suspect.

Did this mean that _she _was our mole?

I was so ready for this investigation to be over because quite honestly, I liked these people.

I mean, maybe not Banta, but Lacey…McHale…Stahl. They were hard-working agents and yet one of them was pulling the wool over our eyes.

I felt like a sheepdog trying to sniff out which sheep was actually the wolf in a costume.

And the costumes were all pretty damn good.

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket, so I pulled it out as I looked at the clock on the wall.

Ten-thirty.

It was a little early for Maas, but I still held out hope.

Because Alex was sitting right beside me and there weren't too many other people who sent me text messages.

I flipped open my phone and read the one-word text.

And then I read it again.

And then I read it a third time, mostly because I didn't want to believe it.

"You okay, Goren?" Lacey asked, and I forced my eyes away from the screen of my phone so that I could look across the desk at her.

"Yeah, I'm…sorry," I managed to say. "I…can you excuse us for a minute?"

_Smooth, Goren_, I thought.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I said as I got up from the chair. Alex got up, too, and the two of us headed for the door. "I just got some bad news from an old friend."

I ushered Alex out the door and then, with my hand on the small of her back, I guided her quickly down the hall and into the break room.

It was empty at the moment which was a godsend because I needed to get a grip on myself.

I mean, I'd tried to prepare myself for all possibilities, but still…

"It's Stahl," I said without waiting for her to ask.

"What?" she asked in alarm.

"Stahl," I repeated. "I got a text from Maas. Isabelle must have ID'd Stahl."

"Oh my God," she muttered. "Okay, wait. This doesn't mean…you know, we said that it doesn't mean…"

"I know. But we have to confront her with it. We can't change our plan just because we like her."

"So…what?" Alex asked, and she was clearly just as thrown by this news as I was. "She hired the detective to follow her when she met with Ross so that she could get the picture to give to Hassan? Is that what we're saying? She set it up to make it look like someone else was trailing her but she'd arranged it herself?"

"That's what we're saying," I agreed quietly. "And that explains why she wasn't targeted by Hassan after he got that photo. He didn't kill her because she was working for him."

"Maybe," Alex conceded. She was quiet for a minute and then looked up at me. "So you think that Beemer knew?"

"It would explain why he was killed," I said, even though I hated the idea. "As his partner, she may even have had a key to his apartment. She could've planted the surveillance tapes in his place for Banta to find later. Didn't Casteel say that the killer was about five-six?"

She held my gaze and gave me a slow nod. And as we continued to stare at each other, I thought about things more rationally.

If we were right, then Stahl had knowingly caused Ross' death.

It didn't matter if she'd snowed us with her amenable personality.

This was what we were here to uncover.

Now we could finish the job.

If she was guilty, we'd take her down and then get on with our lives.

Our _real_ lives.

"Okay, so…how do you want to play this?" Alex asked me, and she seemed to have rediscovered her strength just as I had.

"I think that it'll be tough to prove anything," I said. "It's all supposition."

"We'll need to get her to confess," Alex replied firmly.

"Well then, it's a good thing that's our specialty."

TBC...


	31. Chapter 31

**Alex POV**

* * *

I couldn't let it bug me that I'd honestly liked Stahl.

I guess that just meant that she was good at her job.

Her real job anyway.

The one where she was in bed with gun runners and sold out fellow law enforcement officers to her terrorist friends.

Apparently, she'd been nice to me and Bobby so that she could keep an eye on us.

She wanted to gain our trust so that we would feel comfortable confiding in her.

But I shook off my feeling of betrayal and walked side by side with Bobby down the hall to Stahl's office.

I felt like an athlete suiting up for the big game.

Because Bobby was right.

This was what we did.

We got criminals to confess.

"You ready?" he asked me in a barely audible voice.

"Oh yeah," I murmured.

And then I pushed open her office door without knocking.

I wanted to put her on her heels right from the start.

"Eames," she said in surprise. I watched her as she shuffled papers across her desk, subtly burying what she'd been working on. "And Goren. What's going on? You know, I'm usually not big on formalities, but I do appreciate a knock if the door's closed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said insincerely. "Are we interrupting?"

"It's eleven o'clock on a Monday morning. What do you think?" she retorted smartly. Then she took a deep breath and waved us over to the chairs. "Come on. Sit."

"No thank you," Bobby said. "I think we'll stand."

"Okay," she said cautiously. "What is it?"

"You know why we're here," I said firmly.

She looked at me for a minute and then shifted her gaze to Bobby briefly before returning it to me.

"No, I don't."

"Cut the crap, Stahl. It's over," Bobby said. "We know."

Because, see, this is how we'd decided it had to be done.

We had to convince her that we knew more than we did until she admitted something incriminating.

It was risky.

I mean, we could be wrong.

And even if we weren't wrong, if she wouldn't confess to something then we could possibly be in some trouble.

She'd report us to Casteel and play the innocent card and…well, I don't know what would happen after that.

It might trigger a formal inquiry or it might end with me and Bobby out on our asses.

"Goren, I don't know what you're talking about."

And I didn't have to look at Bobby to know that he'd shifted positions.

He was now standing with his feet apart and his arms folded across his chest. I had no doubt that he was watching her intently, so I was going to give him something to look at.

I was going to try to force a reaction from her.

"We talked to Dick Buster," I said.

She barely flinched.

But when I say barely, I mean that she _did_ flinch slightly.

I felt a fresh surge of confidence mixed with repugnance as I continued my verbal assault.

"We know that you hired him to follow you and Ross. Buster has the negatives. As smart as you are, you didn't think about making him give you those, too?"

"Eames…Alex…I'm not sure what you think you know, but…"

"And you put the post office box in Ross' name," I continued. "That's a little twisted, don't you think? A little cold."

"What I want to know," Bobby began. "Is what you get out of this deal, huh? How much is Hassan paying you?"

"Guys, you've got it all wrong. I didn't…I would never…"

"You would never set up a colleague to be killed?" I supplied. "But you did. You gave Hassan that photo and then washed your hands of the whole thing, didn't you? Ross never stood a chance because you needed to do something to prove your loyalty to Hassan."

"Goren," she said, looking to him for compassion since she wasn't getting it from me. "That's not what happened. I didn't do this."

She stopped talking and for a minute I thought that maybe she was going to start crying, but then she said, "It was Beemer. He did it."

Of course, we'd anticipated this.

It was straight out of the handbook of how a guilty suspect will act when confronted.

In fact, it was step two.

Step one was steadfast denial.

She'd blown past that one quickly and now she'd moved on to deflection of blame.

"That's what you want everyone to think now, isn't it?" I asked sharply.

"But he found out it was you," Bobby insisted. "And when he tried to make contact with us, you killed him."

"With…it was…" she began in confusion, and I knew that we almost had her.

She hadn't known that Beemer was going to meet with us that night.

Just that he was going to meet with someone.

And her surprise at finding out that it was us had almost made her spill it.

But we weren't done.

We switched gears on her, not giving her a chance to recover.

"You hired Buster because you knew that you'd never run into him professionally. He doesn't exactly run in the same circles, does he? But you know what? _He_ was your mistake. And I don't mean by hiring him using your real name," I said to her.

I could literally see the color draining from her face.

"I don't know any Buster," she managed to say. "I have no idea who that is."

Ah, so now she'd regressed back to step one.

That was fine. We'd bump her up to three in no time.

"Do you want to tell her, Bobby?" I asked smugly.

Damn, this was fun.

This was really the best part of being a detective. If I did manage to make captain, I was going to have to be the type who stayed actively involved in cases. I wasn't ready to let this go yet.

But I had to focus.

We were moments away from a confession.

"Buster was curious about you," Bobby picked up. "He might be a stoner but he's not stupid. He staked out the UPS store. He saw you when you picked up the photos."

I watched Stahl as Bobby let his words hang in the air for a minute, offering up a dramatic pause designed to give her time for reality to sink in.

And then he added the kill shot.

"Buster took pictures," he said definitively. "Of you, emptying out the PO Box."

And yeah, that was a total lie, but she would have no way of knowing that.

"Oh my God," she said on a choked sob. "Oh my God, it's…I…he took pictures?"

Usually when a suspect crumbles, it tugs at Bobby's heart.

Especially in this case when the suspect was someone we'd worked with, someone we'd grown to like.

But not this time.

This time, as she collapsed in her chair and held her head in her hands, I could feel the anger roll from him.

"You sold out a police captain," he said loudly as he walked up to the front of her desk and slammed his hands down on the surface. "You talked him into an undercover job and then you got him killed. What kind of person does that?"

Of course, I was pretty pissed off, too.

"And you knew that Hassan was eliminating his business partners and yet you had the nerve to accuse Goren of murder. Was that just to throw the heat off of the real perpetrators? Was that to make you look like you were desperate to get to the bottom of it when in reality you were just desperate to make it all go away?"

"You don't understand," she said. "I didn't have a choice. I…Hassan approached me, and…I…"

See? Now she'd leap-frogged a repeat of step two and went straight to step three.

The indignant confession.

"You what? You didn't have the guts to stand up to him, and so you chose to let an innocent man get murdered? _Two_ innocent men," I amended, referring to Beemer as well as Ross. "You're a goddamn FBI agent. Don't tell me that you didn't have choices."

"That shipment…it was worth millions of dollars, and the Bureau was just going to steal it from him," she argued.

"They were going to keep it from going into the hands of terrorists," Bobby corrected. "Do you really think that Hassan is the victim in all of this? How many people did he have killed? How many people did you _help_ him kill?"

"You need to tell us everything you know about his operation," I told her firmly. "You can never make up for what you did, but that's your only hope of coming out of this thing alive. What you did…that's treason. You sold out your country. Surely you understand the magnitude of what you've done."

"I know," she said with a shrug. "It's punishable by death. But what you don't understand is that I'm dead either way. If I give you information on Hassan, he'll kill me. And if I don't, the justice system will. Besides, I'm not giving up Hassan. He has an agenda, a mission that's important to his people. He's not the monster that you think he is. So the way I see it, there's only one way out of this."

"You see a way out?" Bobby asked her. "Because from where I'm standing, you've painted yourself into a corner."

"What will it take to make this go away?" she asked carefully.

And now she'd moved on to step four.

Desperate bargaining.

"Are you offering us money to look the other way?" I asked her.

"It's a valid consideration," she said, and I watched as she gathered her self-confidence and got up from her chair. "Are you so sure that your allegations will stick? Because I've got to tell you, if you're wrong, and I walk away from this, who do you think will be next on Hassan's list? Hell, you may be anyway if I tell him what you're trying to do."

"Now you're going to threaten us? You'd put us on his list, just like you did to Ross?" Bobby asked, shaking his head in amazement at her audacity.

"All I'm saying is that if your attempt here fails, Casteel will put you out on your ass. You guys are NYPD rejects and now you'll be Bureau rejects…wouldn't it be nice to just take a cool mil and live out your lives in Tahiti?"

I glanced at Bobby and shrugged as though I might actually be considering it.

"Tahiti probably is pretty nice," I commented.

Bobby nodded his head at me for a minute, but then he smiled and shook it instead as he reached in his pocket.

"Nah, you know, I think I'd miss the New York winters," he said. And then he pulled out the recording device. He held it up so that she could see that we'd gotten everything on tape, and added, "And see? You taped us. We taped you. But I'm betting what you got on your tapes won't land us in federal prison."

"Youtube, maybe," I joked.

Although Stahl wasn't laughing. In fact, she'd once again fallen back into her chair and it looked as though the fight had drained out of her.

"You didn't just stumble into this, did you?" she asked tiredly. "That was your goal all along. To find out who gave up Ross."

"Yes. I'm just sorry that it was you," I said honestly.

Further discussion was halted when Stahl's office door opened.

It was Lacey.

"Hey, Wendy…" she began, and then she stopped suddenly, clearly sensing the tension in the room. "What's going on in here?"

Stahl didn't even look up, but instead kept her face in her hands.

"Eames?" Lacey questioned, turning to me for an explanation.

"It's…" I started, but then I wasn't sure how much to go into it.

It was going to be a tremendous shock to everyone and I didn't want to just start blurting it out.

But Bobby and I did need to go to Casteel.

We had to get Stahl taken into custody and we needed to keep her from making any phone calls at the moment. She had thrown me slightly with her statement that she could tell Hassan about me and Bobby and have us put on his list.

I wanted to make sure that didn't happen.

"It's complicated," Bobby finished for me. "But we need to go get the SAC. Can you sit in here with her?"

"Sit in here? Why?"

"I'm in custody," Stahl murmured without looking. "They want to make sure that I'm not going to try to escape."

I sighed and stared at the top of her head for a minute longer and then turned back to Lacey.

"Just make sure she stays in here," I said quietly. "And don't let her use the phone."

"We'll explain it all later," Bobby added.

And it was a testament to the amount of trust and respect that we'd earned since joining the Bureau that Lacey did as we asked.

She stared at both of us, but then gave a sharp nod and came fully into the room.

She sat down in a chair on the far side of the office and said, "Okay, go."

I took a last glance at Stahl and then headed for the door, with Bobby right on my heels.

I felt so many things.

Exhilarated that we'd been successful.

Sad that her life was now ruined.

Disappointed that someone like her had fallen so far.

Excited that now we'd be able to get back to the department.

As those things ran through my head, we cleared the doorway and turned down the hall.

But we'd only taken two steps away from the door when the shot rang out.

TBC...


	32. Chapter 32

**Bobby POV**

* * *

The federal building was buzzing with gossip for the next three days.

Alex and I were at the root of it, along with Stahl, of course.

Because Stahl had killed herself.

As soon as we left her office on Monday, in search of SAC Casteel, she'd slid her hand into her desk drawer and pulled out her service weapon.

Poor Lacey hadn't even realized what was happening until the shot had been fired.

The other agents in the building were divided into ones who believed the allegations against Stahl and those who didn't.

The ones who didn't were the ones who blamed me and Alex for pushing her to do what she did.

In the mean time, it had been a whirlwind of activity for the two of us. We spent the next few days offering statements, explanations, and providing official affidavits.

On Friday, Moran and Maas both came to the federal building to stand behind us in our defense to Casteel.

Because he was furious that he'd been kept out of the loop.

"Who do you think you are?" he boomed. "You conducted a witch hunt in my department without my knowledge!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a witch hunt, now was it Bill?" Moran had countered. "That terminology might suggest that no guilty party existed. And we all know that's just not true."

"And we couldn't tell you about it since we didn't know how deep the corruption ran," Maas added.

"You're going to suggest that it could've been me?" Casteel shouted indignantly. I'm not sure from where he knew Maas, but it was clear that the two of them didn't care for each other. "Stanley, I've been doing this job since you were a snot-nosed little brat in the schoolyard."

"Captain Maas is a twenty-two year veteran of the NYPD," Moran corrected. "And he's exactly right to say that we had no way of knowing. We lost one of our own due to a dirty agent. You can't blame us for wanting to find the responsible party."

"By hijacking my department?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Bill, but I'd bet that Goren and Eames made your department look pretty damn good for the past nine months. And I'm guessing that you're only pissed off because you know they're not going to stay on at the Bureau. So get off your damn high horse and admit that they conducted an air-tight investigation that led to the exposure of a corrupt agent."

See, when I said that Maas and Moran stood behind us, what I really meant was that they stood in _front_ of us.

"Besides, there's no law against the two of them looking into things on their own time. They acquired their jobs with the Bureau through proper channels. And they didn't use Bureau resources for the investigation," Maas added. "In fact, they probably have quite the lawsuit against the government for its use of invasive surveillance."

"It was for their own protection," Casteel replied gruffly. "Undercover work is dangerous."

"We know," Moran agreed. "And even more dangerous when the undercover can't trust his handler. So you might be embarrassed that you had a rogue agent under your command, or irritated that this investigation went on without your knowledge, but the fact of the matter is that Stahl was dirty. And they caught her."

"And then she killed herself," Casteel pointed out.

"It was the last desperate act of someone in a helpless situation. Goren and Eames aren't at fault for that."

"I know," the SAC admitted, finally settling down and letting go of his anger. "I know they're not."

"Good," Moran said with a nod. "And the official statement?"

"Agent Stahl was killed in the line of duty while in pursuit of a suspect," Casteel said.

Because we couldn't let Hassan know the truth.

We had no idea where he was presently located, if he was even in the country, but if he was, and he happened to hear about her death, then at least this story wouldn't be suspicious.

And in the mean time, investigators were going to go through Stahl's place with a fine-toothed comb and see what they could learn about Hassan's organization.

But me and Alex were out of it.

We'd come here to find the mole, and that's what we'd done.

"So what's next for you two?" Casteel asked, looking at me and Alex. "You know, you don't have to go. You completed the required training. You could stay on with the Bureau. There are a number of SAC's who have expressed interest, so you wouldn't have to stay in this department."

I heard Moran chuckle, but he didn't say anything, so I answered.

"We appreciate the opportunity to work here, sir, but assuming our jobs are still available with the NYPD, I think it's safe to say that we'd like to go back."

I glanced at Alex as I finished my statement. She nodded her head in agreement and then both of us looked at Moran.

"Your jobs are there," he assured us.

We concluded our meeting with Casteel, and I was glad to see that he didn't seem to harbor any lingering feelings of resentment towards us.

I knew that it was going to take some time for his department to get back on its feet after such a devastating loss, but they were good agents. They'd prevail.

We left the SAC's office and the four of us headed for the elevator.

"Really nice work," Moran said to us as we got on. "And I meant what I said. Your jobs are there. But take some time first. Eames, you've got your exam in two weeks. I should have the results by the first of the year. We'll schedule a meeting for the three of us in my office for the first Monday in January. How does that sound?"

Four weeks off?

That sounded like heaven.

"That sounds great," Alex told him. "Thank you, sir."

"It's probably going to feel weird, going home to separate houses after living together for so long, huh?" he remarked without looking at either of us.

"I'll just be glad to know that no one's listening," Alex replied after giving me a quick smirk.

The elevator doors opened up in the parking garage.

"Pass that exam, Eames," Moran said as he headed off towards his car. "I'm going back to 1PP to fill out the paperwork to put you back in that office where you belong."

"Yes sir," she said with a smile.

"And Goren…" he said, stopping to turn around and look at me.

"Sir?"

"Don't think that I'm giving you four weeks off out of the goodness of my heart. It'll take me that long to find some poor unsuspecting detective who'll be willing to have you as a partner."

Of course, his grin gave him away. I swear, I've never seen the man smile so much as I had in the past hour. He'd really enjoyed the scene in Casteel's office. There had always been an unspoken competition between the department and the feds and it looked like this time the NYPD had come out on top.

"Maybe I should take longer," I joked.

"I'll come up with something," he assured me. Then he gave me a nod and got into his car.

Maas patted me on the shoulder and then shook my hand.

"It's been a pleasure working with the two of you," he said, moving on to shake Alex's hand, too. "Enjoy your time off. I'll see you both in January."

And then it was just me and Alex.

"Wow, I can't believe that it's really over," she said quietly.

"Uh huh. So what now?"

"Let's go home."

So we went home.

To my place.

And right away, I called Jimmy and had him do a comprehensive sweep of the place so that we could be sure that every device was disabled and removed.

Once he left and we were finally, truly alone, I wrapped my arms around Alex and held her tight.

"We did it," I said as I buried my face in the crook of her neck.

"Did you think that we wouldn't?"

"I didn't think it would take this long," I admitted.

This long with our lives on hold.

This long with her career on hold.

"It was worth it," she assured me. "It was absolutely worth it."

We spent most of the next week making love in all of the places that we'd been denied over the past nine months.

The bed, the kitchen counter, the foyer…

Literally, for six days we didn't leave the apartment.

It was the best kind of debriefing imaginable.

When we were finally ready to leave the house, we went to visit her parents.

We still didn't get into details about what had happened, but we did let them know that we were both going back to Major Case.

Her dad was ecstatic.

"It's about damn time," he said gruffly as he hugged his daughter. "That's where you belong, sweetheart. None of that narcotics mess."

Then to my surprise, he hugged me as well.

"You, too, Bobby. And if my little girl ever tries to fire you again, well…you call me."

Her mom reacted slightly differently.

I mean, she was happy, but she seemed to have an _aha_ moment.

"So you'll be working together," she said with an understanding nod.

"Well, in the same department," Alex clarified. "We have a meeting with Moran in a few weeks. I'm hoping to be offered the captain's job."

"You'll get it," I said confidently. "He all but announced it already."

"I'll wait until he says it officially," she replied.

"Still," her mother said. "The same department. Where there are rules."

"Of course there'll be rules," her dad said in confusion. "Where aren't there rules?"

But her mom ignored him and gave me a pat on the cheek.

"You'll still be watching her back," she said pointedly to me.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy. Okay, who's ready for dinner?"

So apparently that was Alex's mom's version of giving her blessing, and that was a first for me.

In my younger days, I'd never had any trouble finding a girl, but I'd also never been well-received by any of their parents.

For some reason, my family history always seemed to precede me and no one ever wanted their daughter involved with the likes of me.

But lucky for me, now that I finally had the woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with, I also had the approval of her family.

So I was in a great mood when we left the Eames' place and headed for the morgue.

And odd, maybe, to be in a good mood on the way to the morgue, but we'd wanted to catch up with Dr. Rodgers and Alex had called earlier to find out that she was on the late shift today.

We found her fully absorbed in an autopsy, but she welcomed us with surprise.

"What are you two doing here? And _where_ have you been? It's been way too long!"

She set down her scalpel and put her gloved hands on her hips, tipping her head to look at us.

"Where _have_ you been?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes. "And why are you together? The word on the street was that you fired him."

Her scrutinizing gaze fell on Alex as she finished her sentence, and I felt a rush of affection for the doctor for her seeming support of me.

She actually appeared to be upset with Alex for something she'd supposedly done nearly a year ago.

But as we continued to stand together in silence, her face suddenly changed.

"It wasn't real, was it?" she asked carefully. "It was a cover for…for…what? What did you do? Did you go after Danny's killer?"

"We had to find out who was behind it," Alex said quietly.

"I knew it," she said under her breath. "I knew you would never fire him. So, did you? Did you find him?"

"Yes," I said with a slow nod. "It was actually a her. It was his handler."

I watched her carefully as a maelstrom of emotions worked their way across her face.

I knew that she'd been close to Ross. Even though they'd stopped dating several months before his death, at one time she'd loved him.

And however their relationship had ended, they'd shared a closeness for more than two years, and that kind of emotion doesn't just go away.

She expelled a deep breath and closed her eyes as she whispered, "Thank you."

Then she opened her eyes again, only now they were glassy with unshed tears.

"So…um…" she began as she pulled off her gloves and tossed them on the exam table. "So, you have enough evidence? This woman is going to prison?"

"She's dead," I told her. "She killed herself. But in answer to your question, yes. We have her taped confession. There's no question about it. She's the one responsible."

As I finished my sentence, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug.

"I knew that if anyone could get to the bottom of it, it would be you two," she said, and then she let me go and turned to hug Alex. "Thank you. I know that it doesn't change what happened, and it doesn't bring him back, but…"

"I know," Alex said in understanding.

"So what now?" Rodgers asked as she stepped back and regained her composure. "I mean, if it was all for show, then are you coming back?"

"January 3rd," I said with a grin. "And it won't be long after that before I'll be back down here, questioning your findings and getting in your way."

She let out a quick laugh at my unexpected humor, and then she gave me a smile and rolled her eyes at me like she always did in the old days.

"I can't wait, Detective."

TBC...


	33. Chapter 33

**Bobby POV**

* * *

December was gone before we knew it.

I'd never expected that I was the type of guy who could be happy on a vacation, but as it turned out, I'm exactly that type of guy.

Because after Alex took her exam, we spent the next two weeks on a road trip.

And we had the time of our lives.

We drove down the coast for awhile and then we turned right and headed for the mountains.

We went south until the first week was up and then we turned the car around.

We stayed in a rustic cabin near the Great Smokey Mountains National Park and then we stayed in a five-star hotel on the St. Johns River in Jacksonville.

We didn't talk much about work.

We weren't Goren and Eames.

We were just Bobby and Alex.

When we got back to New York, on the first of January, we finally decided that it was time to discuss the logistics.

"I'll just keep my place," she said rationally.

"But keep living here," I clarified.

Because now that the time had come for us to go back, I was starting to get a little nervous about it.

She was going to be one of the brass.

"Of course," she replied. "I mean, if that's what you want."

"It's what I want," I assured her. "Is it what you want?"

We were sitting at the kitchen table, having just finished dinner.

And suddenly it felt like we were miles apart even though there was only a small square of wood between us.

Alex must have felt it, too, because she got up and came around the table.

I scooted my chair back and she sat down in my lap.

"Nothing has changed," she said quietly. "Just because we're going back…I still want to be with you."

"It's not going to be easy," I reminded her. "And I don't just mean dealing with me. I mean keeping this thing a secret."

"I know," she agreed.

She settled her palm against my cheek, which was once again covered with a heavy beard. I'd have to shave before meeting with Moran on Monday, but for now, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling as she moved her fingers back and forth over the whiskers.

"I'm wondering if I can pull it off," I admitted. "I mean, I look at you and…I just have to think that surely everyone can tell how much I love you."

She smiled and leaned her head against my chest.

"I've loved you for a long time, Bobby," she whispered. "And so far, no one seems to have noticed."

"Or they have and they just don't care," I suggested.

"So no touching or hugging or kissing while we're at the office and we should be fine," she concluded.

"So, does that mean that I can't make love to you in your new office?" I teased as I stroked my hand up and down her back. "No quickies in the supply closet? No nooners in the parking garage?"

She laughed and lifted her head to look at me.

"No, but if you play your cards right, I might agree to a little manual release in the department SUV," she quipped, and even though I knew that she was kidding, as she said the words, she ran her hand over me, putting just the right amount of pressure in just the right place.

"Captain Eames, you are a very bad girl."

"I'm not a captain yet," she argued lightly.

She pulled down my zipper and slipped her hand inside, squeezing me through the thin layer of cotton.

"But you are bad," I managed to say as she increased her movements.

"You like me like that," she informed me, using her free hand to undo my belt buckle and the snap so that she could have better access.

"No I don't," I countered.

"No?" she questioned, at last finding her way beneath my boxers so that her skin was directly against mine.

"No, I love you like that," I ground out.

She was getting me worked up in a hurry, so it was time to either give in and enjoy it or put on the brakes.

I put on the brakes.

Because as good as what she was doing felt, it wasn't what I wanted.

I wanted that connection with her.

We'd been having a serious discussion, and while I didn't mind postponing it for a short period of time, I was still seeking that reassurance that she and I were going to make it work together.

So I grabbed her by the wrists and moved her hands behind her back, pulling her closer to me in the process.

And then I kissed her, hard.

I felt the intensity building in me, the need to possess her, to make her crazy with want for me so that she would never consider _not_ being with me.

So that no matter how hard things got at work, it was still worth it.

_I _was still worth it.

But when I pulled my lips away from hers, moving instead to indelibly mark the skin along the side of her neck, she began to whisper my name with such reverence, such adoration, such _love_ that I faltered in my movements and I let go of her wrists.

She immediately brought her hands up to my face and looked me in the eye.

"This is not a last-chance act of desperation," she said gently. "You don't have to convince me to stay. I love you. That's why I stay. And yes, it's going to be hard at times. And yes, there are probably going to be days when I'm ready to pull my hair out over you. But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop loving you."

"But how can you know?" I asked.

I didn't even stop to wonder how she'd known exactly what was on my mind.

We just had that connection.

And I knew that it didn't have anything to do with sex. I'd been wrong to think even for a second that maybe it did.

In fact, I'd known all along that it didn't, I was just…I don't know.

Panicking.

We'd had it so good for so long and I wasn't ready for anything to change.

"I don't know how I know," she admitted. "I just do. Don't you?"

"Well…yeah," I replied. And then I smiled and added, "But you're easy to love."

"Huh. Let's see if you say that when I kick you out of bed at three o'clock in the morning to go to a crime scene."

I chuckled at her practicality and I felt my whole body relax.

She was right, as usual. It wasn't really going to be that much different.

We were professionals. It's not like we'd be making out at the office, even if such a thing was allowed.

We would go to work and do our jobs and go home.

And if we happened to be out to dinner some night and run into Moran, well then…so be it. We'd cross that bridge when we got to it.

"Well, I guess it will make notification a little easier," I joked. "You'll only have to make one call, to my partner, whoever that is."

"Oh no, you can call your own partner," she asserted as she stood up.

"Where are you going?"

But then she unhooked her jeans and pushed them to the floor before climbing back onto my lap.

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Alex POV

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement.

And I don't mean about Bobby.

We'd gotten that straight over the weekend.

He'd had a minor mental slip and suddenly seemed to think that the only thing I got from our relationship was good sex, but I'd cleared up that misconception pretty quickly.

Although, I should add that the sex is pretty damn good.

Really, _really_ good.

So if I was ever going to be in a relationship strictly for physical gratification, well…I'm just saying.

But the point is, I'm too in love with him to even care about that. Even if we could never do it again, I'd never leave him.

With that in mind, the same goes for the job.

I'd pick him over any job, any day.

And like I'd said, of course there were going to be difficult times.

Being in love with someone certainly doesn't mean never getting angry with them.

But as long as we communicate and respect each other, this will work out just fine.

So no, I wasn't nervous about that.

I was afraid for how I'd done on that exam.

What if I failed it?

I mean, I kept telling Bobby that I wasn't going to count on that job until Moran officially offered it to me, but it was kind of hard not to.

Moran had been pretty clear, although he'd also said that I needed to be sure to pass the test.

I'd felt confident when I went to take it.

And I'd even felt pretty good about it after the fact.

I hardly gave it a thought during our entire two-week vacation.

Which, by the way had been like a honeymoon.

Better than my honeymoon, in fact.

But I digress.

The exam.

I was sweating bullets.

I played it off at first when Bobby asked me what was wrong, but then I reminded myself about the key to our relationship's success.

Communication.

So I told him.

And I gave him points for not brushing off my fears.

"Two more hours and we'll know for sure," he said, picking up my hand and bringing it to his lips so that he could kiss my palm. "And what's the worst that can happen? You'll still get the captain's job. You'll just do it as a lieutenant until the next testing time."

And he was right, I knew.

So I forced the doubts from my mind and dressed for success in a white blouse with black slacks and matching jacket.

"Are you ready, Lieutenant?" Bobby asked me. At my quirked eyebrow, he added, "I figured I'd get that in before Moran changes it. Unless you'd rather I call you…oh, I don't know. Cupcake? Sweetie pie?"

"Move your ass, Goren," I replied with a grin as I shooed him toward the door. "Keep that up and I'll have to suspend you on your first day back."

An hour later, Moran called us into his office.

"You two look rested," he commented. And I felt a little anxious as his eyes looked over both of us. "And tan."

_I knew we shouldn't have spent those two days lying on the beach in Tampa…_

"We both managed to get out of the city during our time off," Bobby explained. "Separately, of course."

"Of course," Moran agreed with a nod. "Please, have a seat."

We both sat down and waited while Moran looked over some papers on his desk.

_Here it comes_, I thought. _He's trying to decide how to deliver the bad news_.

"For starters, the transfer for Captain Callas was effective as of this morning. So, Captain Eames, I'd like for you to take over the position of the captain of Major Case."

_Captain_.

I let out a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding and then I couldn't stop the smile.

I didn't want to look at Bobby because I was afraid if I did then I might launch myself into his arms, but no…this was part of it.

I turned to look at him and he nodded at me encouragingly.

"I told you," he teased.

"You were worried?" Moran asked in confusion. "Eames, you had a perfect score."

"Well, I had a good study partner," I deflected.

"I can tell. But I wouldn't give him all of the credit. Didn't you one-up him at Quantico?"

"Yes, sir," I admitted.

"Rule of thumb, Eames. A captain gets plenty of crap when it's undeserved and you have to take it. So you also have to learn how to take credit when it's offered because it'll likely be few and far between."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, so I have a few papers for both of you to sign to make your reinstatement official and then I'll let you both get back to work."

"Um…did you…" Bobby began. He fiddled with his tie clip as he searched for the words to ask his most pressing question now that my fate was sealed.

"Did I have any luck finding you a partner?" Moran asked, and now he was the one smiling. "In fact, I did."

But he didn't say anything more.

Instead, he handed us papers, one at a time, so we signed on the dotted lines and when we finished, he got up from his chair.

"I think that covers it."

"Sir, my partner?"

Moran checked his watch.

"I have a feeling he'll be here any minute."

Bobby and I stood up, too, and he looked at me nervously.

I knew that he couldn't decide if Moran's amusement was because this new partner was gong to be some kind of payback or if he truly had found someone who would work well with Bobby.

But I was the boss now.

If Bobby and his partner didn't get along, then I'd have the authority to make a change.

And would that be playing favorites?

I don't know.

But I wasn't going to let him work day in and day out with someone I couldn't trust to watch his back.

Moran opened the door to let us out, and there stood Mike Logan.

"Good timing," Moran said.

"Logan?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently, there was a shortage of detectives willing to work with Goren," he said sardonically.

"Yeah, I think that list is at two," Moran added on a chuckle. "You and Eames."

"You're going to be my partner?" Bobby asked him, and I could tell that he liked that idea.

Me, on the other hand, had fast and furious visions of rule books flying out the window, toes being stepped on, DA's being insulted…

"I think it's the chief's new theory of putting two bad apples together," Logan said conspiratorially. "Maybe that way we won't spoil the whole bunch."

"I trust that Eames won't let that happen anyway," Moran countered. "You'll be able to keep these two in check, won't you, Captain?"

I looked at Bobby and Logan, and the two of them looked like they were itching to get back in the game.

It was oceans two all over again.

I had a feeling that I was going to need a healthy supply of Excedrin and I'd have to put my colorist on speed dial to keep away the grays.

But it would be worth it.

"Well, are you three just going to stand around and look at each other all day, or are you going to get your asses back to work?" Moran grumbled.

But I saw a hint of a smile from him as he shoved us out of his office and closed the door behind us.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun," Logan said with a grin as we headed for the elevator.

"It's work, Logan," I said firmly. "Just because you're friends with the boss…"

"I would never dream of taking advantage of you, Eames."

"That's Captain Eames," Bobby reminded him with a smirk.

It was certainly going to be a challenge, keeping Bobby and Logan reined in, but my relief was overwhelming at the fact that this was who would be watching Bobby's back.

No partner to ridicule his ideas or his unorthodox methods, but rather one who would appreciate his skill set.

We arrived on the eleventh floor and it almost felt like old times.

Although there were definitely some changes.

Callas had rearranged the squad room.

Nichols was gone. Moran had said that he'd turned in his resignation a month ago.

Stevens...I'd barely gotten to know her, but as it turned out, that was for the best because she'd not even made it through the first year before deciding to go back to Chicago.

Wheeler was gone. She'd decided not to come back after having her baby.

And of course Ross…

But Bobby was back.

And Logan.

And me.

And I'd have someone put the damn desks back where they belonged before the end of the day.

"Where do you want us to sit, Captain?" Bobby asked me as he looked around the room. I had a feeling that he was noticing the same things as me.

"Just find a spot for now and we'll sort it out," I replied.

I pointed out a couple of empty desks on the far side of the room and then I headed for my office.

But I didn't even get to the door when my phone rang.

"There's a list of your department's current duty schedule on your desk," Moran began without even saying hello. "It was handled for this week, but that'll be up to you after that."

"Okay," I replied, not sure where he was going with the remark.

"Have you looked at it yet?"

"I'm not even in my office yet. I just left yours five minutes ago."

He chuckled at me, seemingly appreciating my directness, and that was a good thing.

Because that was what he was going to get from me.

"Well, get in there and check it out. You need to send a couple of detectives over to 82nd and Broadway. There's a body in a dumpster."

"And it's a Major Case?"

"It is when the body was identified as the son of a councilman."

"I'll get someone on it right away," I assured him.

I was still standing at my door, not having gotten out the keys to unlock the office since I was on the phone, but at the news of a case, I turned around and scanned the room.

"Eames, this needs to be handled delicately," the chief continued. "We don't want bad press for the councilman."

Delicately. Not exactly a term I'd use to describe Bobby or Logan's method of dealing with cases of a sensitive nature, but…the bottom line was, I trusted them to get the job done.

"I understand," I told him. I hung up the phone and called out, "Goren, Logan!"

I didn't wait for them, but instead turned around and unlocked my door. By the time I walked around my desk, they were both standing in my doorway.

"Are you guys ready to go?" I asked them.

"I've been ready for the past year," Logan said. "What've we got?"

I told them what I knew.

"And play nice," I added firmly. "I don't want complaints from the chief on our first case."

"Gotcha, boss," Logan replied. Then he looked at Bobby. "Give me the keys."

"Uh uh. I'm driving," Bobby said with a shake of his head. He caught my eye and gave me a wink and then he turned and started walking away.

Logan trotted after him, and I could hear them bickering all the way down the hall.

"You always let Eames drive," he argued. "So what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that I'm the senior partner. I drive."

"You're senior partner? Says who?"

I shook my head at their harmless squabbling and sat down at my desk.

It was definitely going to be different.

And challenging.

But it was great to be back.

**The End.**


End file.
